Memories | Cliff's Notes

From the mind of a mild mannered maniac

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Can you dance on the ceiling?

That’s my recurring dream…

I’m leaping out of my seat in a massive sports arena, as the final whistle blows.

The delirious crowd leaps to their feet.

The Vancouver Canucks have just won The Stanley Cup.

As the players take turns parading Hockey’s “Holy Grail” around the rink,

The suddenly awestruck fans fall silent.

Four oddly familiar. yet strangely different, figures have suddenly appeared at centre ice.

Now though, I can see who they are. They are far older than I remember them; well, two of them are anyway.

Music echoes, from the rafters and wraps me in it’s comforting cocoon.

I blink and now find myself upside down, taking in the scene from high above the stage.

A bevy of sequinned dancers gyrate to the heady beat and, caught up in the moment, I join in.

Paul and Ringo look much the same as they do currently.

John is wearing his familiar, spherical lenses. His hair though, is now very long and silvery. Rock’s answer to Gandalf or perhaps Dumbledore. Equally as magical at any rate.

George is practically bald, with just a fine scraping of grey stubble at his temples and peppering his chin.

These are not the young lads of the sixties, but they’re every bit as lively. Grinning joyfully and playing their instruments with gleeful panache. Looking closer I’m, suddenly aware that Ringo’s snare drum is The Stanley Cup and he’s striking it with a pair of hockey Sticks. George’s guitar is aglow pulsating with alternating red, blue and green hues, his haunting riffs so mesmerizing.

John and Paul are doing their finest, “Everly Brothers inspired” harmonies.

The fab four, the glorious, incredible, Beatles are “Rockin’ The Roj” (Rogers Arena)

I don’t ever want to awaken from this amazing dream!

Summer Time

Clear blue skies, tropical, sun-drenched beaches,

the heady scent of surf, sand, sunscreen and youthful exuberance rising out of the social conscience, and accompanied by a timeless, cocktail of Jimmy, Buffet and the Beach |Boys.

We thought it would last forever.

Written

on November 14, 2022

The Year just passed and the year ahead

Just a few short hours until the dawning of a brand new year, and with a few quiet moments to reflect, I find myself in a contemplative mood. This hasn’t been a banner year for most of us. We have seen and lived through some tumultuous times.

In the past twelve months we have been rocked by natural disasters, devastating wild fires, the side effects of global warming, geo-political upheaval, civil unrest, race riots, mass murder, the passing of some much-loved people etc…

I could expand that list exponentially, but no, those tears have been spilt. I have to try and look forward with hope and perhaps just a tiny pinch of guarded optimism to the future.

German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, probably said it best:

“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger”

He was right, we can learn from the past and strengthen our resolve to soldier on through adversity. Sometimes that is all you have to cling to.

Not everything was bad about 2017, including, on a personal note, the arrival, not quite a month ago, of a, healthy, beautiful baby boy, my Nephew Jett. He is a true blessing. I hope, and pray that he never bare witness to such a year, but if he does, I know He is surrounded by family and friends who will love him and provide him with all the tools he will need to face the years to come.

And so, with every fiber of my being I close the doors on the year just passed, and greet the New Year with open arms, hopes for brighter days to come, and well wishes to one and all.

Happy new year vector created by Harryarts – Freepik.com

~Cliff 

Category:

Life Observations, Memories, Special Occasions

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Winter’s Cheer

Swiftly fly the seasons

year upon precious year

first Spring’s rebirth,

Summer’s love

then Fall’s rich palette,

and Winter’s cheer

The season that blends nostalgia with a

twist of mirth and folly.

‘Tis a time for frosted window panes,

for mistletoe and Holly.

Time to gather our loved ones here,

to share our joy with our near and dear!

to celebrate with festive cheer.

Happy holidays, folks, wherever you may be!

~CLIFFY 🙂

Category:

Memories, Poetry, Special Occasions

Image

Lonely Road

Driving late, on a lonely road

Just roaming, lost and weary

I think about us, well, the used-to-be us.

and our new past, so damned dreary!

Landmarks along this grainy lane

Pass by my gaze unbidden

I can’t change the channel, can’t look away

The images won’t stay hidden.

Sign posts scream out silently

Hazzards ahead, don’t go there

I can’t turn back though, I never can.

There’s a new path out of here, somewhere.

But there never is, just our tainted past

and the hurt that won’t ever heal.

So, I’m driving late, on this lonely road,

a ghost behind the wheel.

Written

on August 13, 2015

WHERE’S THE BIRTHDAY BOY?

I just came back from a family birthday party, where the guest of honor did not attend.

Before anyone gets the wrong idea here, I should mention that the Birthday Boy, aka, my Father,was home in bed being nursed back to health, a very good excuse for missing it.

At the outset, mild panic had ensued. The cake had been ordered, a great deal of food and beverages had been laid on and it was far too last-minute for cancellation.

So, we had ourselves a party!

It was strange, though, to cut the cake without candles first being blown out!
Not to mention how odd it seemed, having to explain this phenomenon to each newly arriving invitee.

Before long though the music went on, couples jived merrily across the floor. The party was very soon in fullswing, and the oddness just as quickly disappeared.

I was left wondering, why exactly don’t we have “just because” parties, more often?

I mean, everybody enjoyed drinks, eats, and treats, including a piece or two of the aforementioned cake. We had a unique chance to catch up on the lives of some, seldom-seen, friends and our big beautiful, steadily increasing family.

All in attendance, got to let our hair down, some figuratively others literally. We were able to
de-stress from our hectic week, and enjoy each other’s company.

In other words, even without a guest of honor in attendance, a very grand Birthday party occured!

My, now 76 yr old. Father who really detests celebrating his birthday, these days, and hates music to be played above a whisper, was not as ill as he let on, and is feeling much better for having escaped his own party.

He also got to sleep in all day, which, he says, is much his favourite passtime.

That my friends, after a fashion, is what you might call a rip-roaring success!

Oh, and yes, I even saved him a piece of cake.
🙂

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Category:

Life Observations, Memories, Special Occasions

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The Diabolical Blog

The blank word processor page, on my laptop’s screen, glared emphatically at me.

“How dare you parade me about in such an undressed way” It seemed to say. ” Come on, Mr. big shot, writer guy, At least cover me up, with a few words!”

l shifted us to a different spot on the couch. The light was better here, and it had a much nicer view of the garden.

I alternated from thinker pose to keyboard drummer and then finally to gazing vacantly out the window.

The whole time, that lousy, blank screen, with its annoyingly bouncy cursor was just taunting me.

“Let me be,” I cried! Can’t you see that I’m deep in thought? That I am mere moments away from manuscript magnificence here?”

Oh, but my wiley, old computer knew me better than that. Knew my faults, foibles and silly games, better than I knew them, myself.

Even now, as I stared distractedly at the empty page, the pointer was prancing around the bleak, blankness pointing out my pathetic lack of production.

My mind wandered and drifted around for thirty minutes, or more, never once landing on a decent story idea.

From across the room my session timer buzzed and I walked over to shut it off.

I don’t know if I half expected a magic writing genie, or wizard to have had it’s way with my keyboard, in my absence. Perhaps I had convinced myself that I had actually been creative, for a time.

You need to remember, just this, my mind was already, off, taking a vacation in Club Med, at this point. These things happen, I mean, after all, even the humble shoemaker had his elves, right?

I stared at my screen in dumb-struck, disbelief.

“No, no,” I cried! “This simply cannot be!”
The blank, screen loomed over me.
Where were my prolific, prose, my sparkling sentence structures, my pithy rejoinders?

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!!
A strangely sardonic, sonic, note unlike any other, errupted from the depths of my tortured diaphragm. It reverberated round and around, then like a tempest in a teapot, soared skyward.

The diabolical Block had struck again!

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Category:

Life Observations, Memories, Non Fiction

Adulthood????

Question :
“When did you realize you were an adult?”

Should I go with the pat answer here?
You know the one.
Adulthood arrived on the day I reached physical maturity etc…Does anyone really buy that malarky? Good I didn’t think so.
Teen boys are adults in much the same way that youth is often wasted on the young.

In typical male fashion, I dreamed about being a fully fledged wage earner, of buying my first car, of getting my own place. I was a freckly teenager, and owning stuff seemed to be what adult life was souly about.

The powerful allure of childhood playthings, and goofing off was still foremost in my mind. Just like Peter Pan, I thought I would never have to truly grow up.

I was very interested in meeting girls and going steady, but the very thought of settling down and plotting a life course for myself? Well that idea was just so abstract and out of reach.

After dealing with the nine-to-five workforce drudgery for a while, it suddenly dawned on me that this grown up bit was not a whole lot of fun. Instead, I decided to expand my horizons, and find a way to increase my toy buying potential. But still, no adult-like intentions for this kid.

I suppose I was midway through my twenties when the word responsibility finally came home to roost. It suddenly occured to me that kids and teenagers were calling me Sir or Mr. Lewis. Mr. Lewis was my Dad’s and My Grandpas name that wasn’t me yet, was it?!

NAH!!!!!!!

So the years have heaped up on top of each other, one by blessed one. I was twenty, then thirty then forty.

Now, as a nifty-fifty year old, you would think I could gaze back through that looking glass of time, and in, best houdini style, pinpoint the exact moment when adulthood actually arrived.

When the tweens, the teens, and the carefree, wild-oat twenties and thirty’s had made way for maturity and grown-up reasoning.
I guess it had to have happened at some point, right? Maybe, but for the life of me I can’t say when.

At times I still feel very much like that six-year old raggamuffin who’s whole aim in life was to bury as many Hot Wheels cars in the sandpit as was humanly possible.

Could the fact that I don’t have a definitive answer to this question, mean that adulthood hasn’t caught up to me yet ????

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Category:

Life Observations, Memories

Curves Photo Challenge

When I stare at all the wavy lines, curlicues and the nooks, crannies and spaces in between in the design of this old piece of paisley fabric. My imagination takes flight. It makes me wonder if the designer felt the same way. For instance, did he or she intend these to be a pair of fish or dolphins suspended in crystal against a field of tangerine rinds? Was this intended to be squid tentacles erupting from a bed of kelp, hilighted against a sea of twinkling stars? Oh look, the cross section of an elephants trunk reaching out to pluck the strings of a rainbow! This fabric has been around since I was a very young child, and I’ve been fascinated by its intricate design, ever since I can remember. The amazing thing about it though, for me anyway, is that every time I look, I see something new.

Category:

Memories, Photographs

Tagged with:

Weekly Photo Challenge: Curves

When I stare at all the wavy lines, curlicues and the nooks, crannies and spaces in between in the design of this old piece of paisley fabric.

My imagination takes flight. It makes me wonder if the designer felt the same way. For instance, did he or she intend these to be a pair of fish or dolphins suspended in crystal against a field of tangerine rinds?

Was this intended to be squid tentacles erupting from a bed of kelp, hilighted against a sea of twinkling stars?

Oh look, the cross section of an elephants trunk reaching out to pluck the strings of a rainbow!

This fabric has been around since I was a very young child, and I’ve been fascinated by its intricate design, ever since I can remember. The amazing thing about it though, for me anyway, is that every time I look, I see something new.

Category:

Memories, Photographs

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The Swing

That rusty, old swing set has seen far better days. Three wooden planks that comprise the seat, are stripped bare of paint; a result of years of constant erosion. I gingerly test it’s stability with the palm of an outstretched hand, then add the other for good measure. Embarrassed, I peer all around me on the lookout for potential witnesses, and find none.

I park my behind on worn planks feeling very foolish indeed. I rock gently at first, my feet still planted firmly on the ground. The chains squeak, and the metal framework protests slightly, but the structure miraculously holds firm despite my 190-plus pounds of mid life spread.

I lift my heels and set the swing in motion. It is a liberating experience, and losing myself in the moment, I kick out attaining steadily higher altitude with each pass. I am suddenly transported to heady play-acting days of youth. A time and place where I could be anything I wanted to be.

One minute I’d be hang gliding off the northern face of Mount Everest, the next I was Superman, Courageous defender of truth and justice, soaring high over the city in search of wrong doers.

I let out a whoop of exhilaration and release the chains first with one, and finally with both hands. In my mind, I’m staring down from my perch high above the big top.

The crowd hushes as I the world famous trapeze artist prepares to dazzle them with my death defying finale. A drum roll, a rush of air as I tumble through time and space, and then resounding applause. I have flawlessly performed the terrifying triple somersault without the safety net; delicious delirium in full flight!

Real time passes unchecked as I relive a wondrous piece of my childhood, but I slowly came down to earth, as my feet instinctively anchor themselves back on terra firma. My Adult foibles and responsibilities once more draped uneasily across weary shoulders, I stand and stroll slowly across to the parking lot.

An elderly woman who had been partially concealed behind a tall stand of conifers, sits tempting the pigeons with a slab of stale bread. She looks up and smiles at me knowingly as I pass on by. I smile meekly and walk on, busily contemplating my life and devising the next conquest.

Category:

Life Observations, Memories

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Cliff's Notes

From the mind of a mild mannered maniac

Archive for the ‘Memories’ Category

Can you dance on the ceiling?

The Year just passed and the year ahead

“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger”

Winter’s Cheer

Lonely Road

WHERE’S THE BIRTHDAY BOY?

The Diabolical Blog

Adulthood????

Curves Photo Challenge

Weekly Photo Challenge: Curves

The Swing

Cliff445

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From the mind of a mild mannered maniac

Archive for the ‘Memories’ Category

“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger”

Cliff445

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