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Book 3. Toys Toys Toys, And Island IN The Rainbows

December 9, 2010 Leave a comment

Book 3. “Toys Toys Toys”, And “Island IN The Rainbows”

Here are two more from  “A Christmas Present for Santa, The Story Of Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” The first one is “Toys Toys Toys” great fun for us to record (we did it in a wonderful little studio up in Topanga Canyon, belonging to John Cornett, who produced the recordings for lilfish records, St. Thomas, Virgin Islands.) The setting is Santa’s workshop, and the Elves are singing as they work.

The second song “Island In The Rainbows” is a duet between Sandy and Santa, she is homesick and longing for her “Island In The Rainbows”,  A situation that every one of us might easily recognize. Santa tries to comfort her. The little girl playing Sandy is Tasha McCauley a truly great natural talent. Tasha was ten years old at the time. “Island In The Rainbows” is one of my very favorite of my songs. I hope that you will enjoy it and the entire Operetta. www.sandythebluenosedreindeer.com   Here we go!

TOYS TOYS TOYS

Toys toys toys toys – toys toys toys toys

Every one loves toys toys toys

 Way up here in Santa’s shop, when we start we never stop

Cause every toy’s a thing of joy and every body wants a toy

Arche wants an aeroplane, Billy wants a ‘lectric train

Carrie wants more Star Wars stuff,

Children just can’t get enough

Toys toys toys toys, Every one loves toys toys toys

 Drucie wants a doll that walks, Ellie wants a doll that talks

Frankie wants a baseball bat, Sister Gale a football hat

Holly wants a new doll house, Izzy wants a rubber mouse

Jamesy wants a teddy bear, Katie wants a game that’s fair!

 Imagine a world without toys,

An awf’ly boring place, not much fun for girls and boys

But don’t be sad cause it’s ok

There’s something we could do about it

Everybody sing and shout it! Toys..

 Hey! Shouting’s not polite, dont’cha know that?

Ok then every body sing!

 Toys toys toys toys, all we want is toys toys toys.

 Way up here in Santa’s shop, when we start we never stop

Cause every toy’s a thing of joy and every body wants a toy

Lele wants a two wheel trike, Maggie wants a three wheel bike

Nattie wants and ice cream truck, Orvil wants an Easter duck

Poonah wants a boxing glove Queenie wants a fish to love

Roscoe wants a jumping rope, Sarah wants a microscope

Tito wants a frog that sings, Uta wants a magic ring

Virgil wants an oogie board, Wanda wants a pirate sword

Xosa wants a kite that hums, Yone wants a kettle drum

Ziggy wants a cash machine, a racehorse and a Limousine

 A cash machine? A racehorse? A Limousine?

Toys toys toys toys – toys toys toys toys

Every one loves toys toys toys!

ISLAND IN THE RAINBOWS

 

There’s a place that I know,

where I sure wish I could go

Far away, it’s an Island in a Rainbow

Somewhere far across the sea,

I can hear it calling me

But I can”t go

it’s an Island in the Rainbows

 Rainbow days… far away,

Green and Gold, Purple too,

Rosy Red, Yellow and Blue

I wish I could show it to you

Somewhere far across the sea

Is it dream or memory?

I don’t know,

it’s an Island in the rainbows

 Rainbow days… far away,

Green and Gold and Purple too,

Rosy Red, Yellow and Blue,

How I wish that I knew it were true

Maybe someday you and me,

We could fly across the sea

See, if there could be,

An Island in the Rainbows…

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Book 3.TINY…

December 20, 2009 1 comment
Book 3.TINY

 Here is another little “Witch Crik” story, from the point of view of my (then) seven year old daughter Twinkle (Lelia). 

“Tiny”

 My name is Lily, 

My Mother, my Father, My twin brother and I live on a farm way up in the mountains in California, where my Great Grand Father planted peaches and plums and grapes a long long time ago. 

He built a pond too 

And in the summertime it gets very full of froggies and fish…and little taddy-poles. 

Last summer it got very very hot, and the pond became a puddle. We didn’t know what to do.. 

Everyday after day it got smaller and smaller and the fish got crowded, some froggies just hopped out and watched. 

The puddle got so small that some fishes began to die,then lots of fish began to die 

and then one day, there wasn’t any puddle anymore,and they were ALL going to die. 

We didn’t know WHAT to do. 

Then my Brother or me, I don’t remember who, said “Let’s put some in the sink”. And then my brother or me said “Yeah! An let’s put some in the bathtub”. 

Then our Dada said ” Ooh my Babies, I’m so sorry, We can’t do that, we have to use those places!” 

Then my Brother or me, I don’t remember who, said “What about the bucket? We could put some water in the bucket; an’ they could live in there.” 

Our Dada looked like he was gonna cry and he said, “Ooh my sweethearts, I’m so sorry, I’m afraid these little fishies are done for.” 

And we said, “Ooh Dada, Can’t we try”? And he said “Ooh my Duckies, do you REALLY want to?” 

And we said “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” 

So our Dada said, “Ok Duckies..then we will!” 

So we ran around and found all the buckets we could find and Dada got his snake swakin’ shovel, and off we went to the fishies. 

Man oh boy, it was a sad thing. 

There were hundreds of fishes, and none of them were moving or anything, and millions of taddy-poles.. 

Then my Brother or me, I don’t remember who, said ” Look! Somethin’s flopping around over there!” And we ran over there and Dada scooped it up with the shovel and plopped it in the bucket. Right away it started breathing and swimming around in the water. 

“Oh boy Oh boy Oh boy!” We said. And Dada said “Holy Smokes”. 

Then we saw another one move and another one and another one. 

We ran all over the place, plopping them in the buckets as fast as we could. And taddy-poles too! 

We FILLED up our buckets with FISH, 

Dada said they were CAT Fish. Soon we had so many Catfish, we didn’t know WHAT to do. 

So we dumped them in the rain barrel that Mama uses to wash her hair, And ran back to get some more! 

We got every single one of them that was still alive, And ALL of our buckets and rain barrels were full of Cat fish, and taddy-poles too. 

Then Dada said “Yes my Duckies, If you really want to name them, we could try.. 

We tried to name them all…there was Moby and Tina and Moby maybe..and Tina Two and Sharky the first, and lots and lots of names. That’s when we discovered that we were naming some of them two and three times in a row and that we couldn’t tell who was who, except the littlest one..We named her Tiny. 

And Dada said “Oh my Duckies, they might not live very long in the buckets and in the rain barrels” but that “at least we tried, and that is what’s important”. 

Every morning around 8 O’clock and every afternoon around three, all the catfish would come up to the top of the barrels and go “Turp Turp Turp” all at the same time. 

Boy, there was a lot of them.. We gave them bread crumbs to eat. 

The bread crumbs made the water funny and they didn’t like the bread crumbs anyway, so we went to the fishin’ store in town. 

We got cartons of big fat and juicy worms, which my brother and me didn’t want to touch and our Mother didn’t like to have in the refrigerator. 

Maybe the Cat fish didn’t like them either because, like Dada said, “lot’s of them are beginning to give up the ghost” Until they were mostly all gone. 

We didn’t know WHAT to do. 

Finally, there were only two left, Tiny and another guy…and then School started and we didn’t see the Catfish much, then Mama’s calico cat that we called Meep!, might have gotten the catfish in the rain barrel out by the clothesline. 

There was no sign of Tiny, but the taddies in her bucket were real big so we hoped maybe she was still ok. 

Finally, the rains came, and we watched the puddle become the pond again 

And we said, Oh boy! “Maybe we can put Tiny back in the water soon” And Dada said ” Oh my Duckies..if she’s still alive..” 

We wondered if she was, it was such a long long time. 

Then today, my brother or me, I don’t remember who, said “Dada, Dada, lets put the fish back in the water!” 

And Da Da said “Ooh my babies, we don’t know if their even still alive at all” and we said “Ooh Dada Can’t we try”? And Dada said “Ok my Duckies, if you really really want to, and we said “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah! 

So Dada carefully poured the water from Tiny’s big bucket into a smaller one with a handle on it and we watched for Tiny, and looked out for taddys that might spill on the ground. 

My brother didn’t know if he saw her or not or maybe it was a leaf but we did see three taddys fall out. Dada picked them up and put them in the handle bucket and off we went. 

When we got down to the pond it was still very small, But much bigger than when it was dry. 

The water was so clean and so clear and so quiet. 

Then Dada poured the bucket into the pond and the water got all rippled and muddy and we just waited.. 

Then my brother or me or my Dada, I think it was ALL of us said “LOOK LOOK, There she is! There’s TINY! 

And I felt so happy that I cried. And I know my brother and our Dada felt the same way too. 

As we stood by the pond we had a feeling that we won’t ever forget, even when today and tomorrow, go to be a long long time ago.  

The End

BOOK 3. Sula and The Music Of Morning, As Some Of You May Know, Archie Faringhy

November 24, 2009 Leave a comment

BOOK 3. Sula And The Music Of Morning
On Sundays I make it my business to try and visit with Sula for two or three hours. I bring her a salt fish Pate (pa-tay) and two to four little cans of juice, depending on how much loot I have..
The pate is for her to eat, the juice is so that she has something to offer to visitors and guests during the week.
Sula is 107 years old and still pretty sharp (of mind AND looks) I am one of her “boyfriends” “de Whiteman who is a recording artist” she has three others (an ex policeman, and two Moravian Ministers) right off the bat, along with an ever-growing list of wanna be boyfriends. I have been her boyfriend for over twenty years now and she is yet another one of my sweeties that is hoping that I will make some money.

Sula lives in a little wooden house on the north side of Crown Mountain where she has lived all of her (amazing) life. When she was born (1903) the midwife took a look at her and told her mother that. “The best thing to do is to just leave her in the bush somewhere and forget about her, this little one is just too tiny and fragile to live”

Her Mother wouldn’t hear of it and eight days later, when little Sula was still alive, her grand mother took her in her arms (I tease her that her Grandmother stuck her right in her shirt pocket) and walked all the way to town (“In those days all we had was donkey and donkey cart yu’know and we did’n have none of dose”) to the hospital to see the Doctors.

When Sula was twelve she caught the Typhoid Fever and was not expected to live a single day. Her Doctor (The locally famous Danish Doctor, Knud Hansen) called her his little sparrow and said he refused to let her die. Somehow by the grace of the all-powerful, much prayer and the best medical treatment that the great Knud Hansen could provide, Sula survived Not only survived but thrived, she became a teacher at 13 in the Danish school system in 1915. She is now the oldest living Virgin Islander and may in fact be the longest lived Virgin Islander ever.

We are sitting together on her old red couch listening to the choir and the priest at the Roman Catholic Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul (Sula was born Anglican but joined the Moravian Church at Nisky after the Moravian minister extracted a promise from her mother to switch her if she survived the Typhoid Fever.)

The Moravians are a wonderful community with quite a history of activism here in the West Indies; they are the folks that snuck into the ‘cane fields to teach the slaves how to read and write and then provided the schools that delivered all of the education for centuries. My own childhood education at Nisky Elementary School was among the last echoes of their ‘cane field missionary work.

In any case, Sula is not particular about where her Sunday morning music comes from and together we will listen (in turn) to the choirs at Saints Peter and Paul, The French Town Evangelical Assembly, The Salvation Army, and The Anglican Church at Sugar Estate. I love the singing, Sula loves the songs.

As Some Of You May Know..
Some of you may know that I am a recovering person, for the rest of you, I’d like you to know, I’m a recovering person.
In addition to having a first class case of dipsomania, I am a child and grandchild of dipsomaniacs, by the grace of God, good luck and way too many good people to count on fingers and feet, I have been in recovery (as of this writing) since May 24th 1978.
Recovery was passed along to me at a New York City meeting on the upper west side called appropriately “Chock Full Of Nuts” (not the nice little coffee shops). I have been an activist for recovery ever since. I will write much more about it as we move along, but for the moment..

While living with my Bridey Annie and our twins Lelia and Archie up in the Mountains in San Diego County, it became crazy obvious that I had to do something to generate some kaboosh beyond my pitiful music royalties. consequently, I wound up spending two years and six months at UCLA (January 1987 to June 1989) for training and certification in Drug and Alcohol Counseling and Program Design and Management.

While there I designed and started a program called “BIZRAP” (The Music Business Recovery Assistance Program) “BIZRAP” in turn, divided into two programs “MAP” (The Musicians Assistance Program, run by Buddy Arnold, and “Musicares” (The NARAS-Grammys Program) under Michael Green.)
Since then, I have started or participated in the starting of a number of programs and non profits. I am telling you this because it is so and “things related” will naturally come up again and again..

While going to school in LA, I lived alone in a small residential hotel on Lafayette Street, in Culver City that I called “The Bombay Arms” I took city busses to work (at 4 AM I cleaned “The Kingston 12” a night club in Santa Monica, at 10 AM I took the bus to my second job, shipping posters from a garage in LA, at 4 PM, I took the bus to UCLA and after school, the bus back to the Bombay Arms.)

On Saturday mornings I would take the number 33 (Venice Blvd) to Union Station,in LA and take the train down the coast to Oceanside, then two more buses, (the first to Escondido and the second up the mountains into Ramona). There Annie and our little ones would pick me up in the little Datsun and on we would go to “Witch Creek” eight miles further out-of-town. Just before San Isabel, we’d duck off the old Julian highway, go two and a half miles down “Slaughter House Road”, over the bridge, across the Crik’ up the hill and under the Oaks, to the pad..ah Cabin..ah..pad.

When I think about it I don’t know If I want to laugh or cry, or tell it so you laugh or cry..I do believe that in this instance we could do both at once. It was the craziest juxtaposition of characters and circumstances.
The bright lights in this extraordinary mud pie were the children, our twins Lelia and Archie. Two of the sweetest most even keeled little people I’ve ever known, and there was not a single day or part of a day spent with them that was anything less than inspiring and beautiful. They were champions. We had much fun together. I love them completely.

Archie Faringhy
Annie’s Grandfather Archie Faringhy bought the 100 acre ranch (with cabin) in the late nineteen forties and had started two vineyards and orchards of Peaches, Plums, Apricots and Nectarines with a few Pear trees thrown in for good measure.
Maybe 10 15 acres were under cultivation and the rest of the ranch was still “wilder bush”.

We had (Annie, Lelia, Archie and I) come out from New York to California to visit Annie’s Grandparents a few years earlier, and came up to visit the ranch then. The living area consisted of four buildings three of which were original old-time wood slat constructions and a more modern one (the kitchen) that Archie had built himself in the early sixties. Grandpa Archie was quite a crusty and colorful fellow (and not just because he was a redhead)
He’d been born at Fort.Wachuka, (Thunder Mountain) down in Apache territory in Cochise County, Southern Arizona. His father was a Cavalry man and his was mother was a full-blooded Navaho lady. Archie’s Grandfather Faringhy, was a young man from Flanders who had stowed away on “The Mary” and wound up in South Africa, became a Doctor (medicine, not witch) shipped for America and came west as Kit Carson’s Medical Officer.

Kit and his crew participated in much wild west action and were big time good guys or bad guys, (depending on which side of the fray your people were on)
In any case they had passed this way with Gen. Kerney in the time of The Californios, and seen the beauty of these mountains and valleys. Somehow many years later, his Grandson Archie had found/made his way back and bought a small piece of it.
Archie loved this piece of wild world and so did his redheaded grand-daughter Annie.