Cheers - Bars - Part Two

This is Part Two of a short series about growing up around alcohol.

In the mid to late 1950's there were three bars in the Cruz Bay area, each with its own distinct atmosphere.

If you wanted a cold beer and a raucous game of dominoes Smitty's was the place to go. Raucous game of dominoes? In the islands dominoes is still predominately played by men who, when they have the winning tile, slam it down on the table top with as much force as possible, causing the tiles jump. The games can get quite noisy. Smitty's is where many of the hard-working day-laborers hung out. It was a place where I could buy the occasion Baby Ruth.

If you wanted to play pool or to talk politics, you went to Mooie's, the oldest bar on the island. Theovald "Mooie" Moorehead an Army Veteran of twelve years, was St. John's senator for many years,  and a humanitarian. Outside his bar, under a large Maho tree, was a concrete bench. While the men talked politics the women gathered under the tree and gossiped. The area became known as the Gossip Tree. In those early days if Mooie wasn't around a person could get a beer or other drink, and leave money on a shelf behind the bar. He kept my favorite soda on hand, Orange Crush. I remember how he'd carefully turn the bottle upside down to mix bits of orange pulp before he opened it.

Smitty's and Mooie's catered more to the locals, both black and white.

Now, if you wanted to play liars dice or pitch horse shoes, you went out to Gallow's Point to Duke Ellington's bar. Duke had been a mystery writer and had several books published. At Gallow's he and his wife, Kay, own and operated a few guest cottages.  Their bar catered more to tourists and white folk. He had a large round table around which long-time residents, like my parents, would confab while they had their evening cocktails. It was here that we heard a wandering minstrel who played a lute. His name was Seraphin (or Serafin) and he wore something like Arthurian or Robin Hood-type garb, green tights, multi-colored coat and cape, and a hat with a feather. We also went to a few Easter Egg hunts there.

Bars were places where people gathered at the end of a long work day, drank a beer and talked before they headed home for supper. It was social drinking and more refined than just going to a bar to drink and get drunk. And we kids, we were all near by, either down on the beach swimming or in the park playing marbles, jacks, or jump rope or playing on the swing set.

Next week? Part Three. In which my sister and I play with cigarettes.

Six Impossible Things

Okay, I know I haven't been visiting around much the last couple of weeks. I'm busy doing what writers do...revising. So if you don't see me much, be compassionate and understanding.



Advice from an old crone.

When life gets you down, think of six impossible things before breakfast.

If you are aren't smiling by the sixth thing, think of six more. Keep thinking of impossible things until you do smile, or until you understand that life itself is impossible.

Yet here we are.





Today's Six Impossible Things


1. Tea with Gandhi
2. Which means there's time travel
3. Spend the week-end with some elves
4. Being able to levitate
5. Being a perfect speller
6. World peace


What impossible things can you think of?

Cheers - Part One

This is Part One of a short series on growing up around alcohol.

Alcohol was, and still is, part of the social fabric of the Virgin Islands. It's cheaper to buy a fifth of rum than a gallon of milk.

My parents kept alcohol in our home. My grandmother's guest house at Trunk Bay and later at Lillie Maho had fully stocked bars. When we were little my sister, Erva, and I were allowed to drink a liqueur glass of wine for special occasions, like Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner. Sometimes if my parents were visiting friends in the evening and I got whiny Mom would slip me a small amount of beer so I'd go to sleep.

One time, when I was about six, we were at a party and I got a fish bone stuck in my throat. I grabbed my father's drink -- which I thought was water -- and chugged it down. It turned out to be rum on the rocks. I don't remember a thing after grabbing his drink. And, strange to say, since then  I've never been all that fond of rum. Though I do like a good pina colada every great once in a while.


When my father won the Fourth of July boat race in our speedy little boat the FDO (Father's Day Off) he got a case of Schaefer Beer. (See, even Lucille Ball advertised for Schaefer.) And speaking of the Fourth, at least once, those in charge of the fireworks got so drunk and excited that they shot them off on the 3rd. But this can be forgiven because the 3rd is Emancipation Day, the day the slaves won their freedom from Denmark.

For many, many years there was an elderly gentleman who, when he got to the right level of drunkenness, would put his bottle of beer on his head and dance, with or without music. I can't remember that bottle ever falling from his head.

The availability of alcohol in my life had it's good and bad sides.  The bad side is that with liquor being cheap, alcoholism is prevalent and I can spot an alcoholic with relative ease. The good side is, because I saw responsible drinking in our home and because we were allowed to drink small amounts, neither my sister or I ever had the need or desire to go out, drink and/or get drunk with our peers, something I saw happen on more than one occasion.

Did you grow up with alcohol in the home? Next Monday...Bars.

Alternatives for All

Alternatives is a recurring post in which I give synonyms for an over used word. Click on the tab above for a "complete" list of over used words. 
 
Today's word is: ALL
Depending on how you use it, this list may come in handy for finding another way to say the same thing.


After all, It's all we can do.






Here are some examples of how we might substitute the word ALL for something else. 


One for en masse and en masse for one!  
.................Hmmm how about,
One for the kit and kaboodle and the kit and kaboodle for one!
................. Errrr
The works for one and one for the works?   
..................OH! I've got it!
The group for one and one for the group! 








And now, without further mangling of a perfectly good line, your alternatives.

accumulation, across the board, aggregate, aggregation, all in all, all-embracing, Alpha and Omega, altogether, amount, as a whole

be all and end all, blanket, bulk

collection, complete, comprehensive

en masse, encompassing, ensemble, entire, entirely, entirety, everyone, everything, exactly, extensive

full, fully

global, greatest, gross, group

in sum, in the long run, in the main, in toto, indivisible, integer

jackpot, just

length and breath, lion’s share, lock stock and barrel

mass

nothing but

on the whole,only, outright

panoptic, perfect, purely

quantity, quite

solely, sum, sum total, sweeping

the kit and caboodle, the long and the short, the works, total, totally

unbroken, uncut, undivided, unit, utmost, utter, utterly

wall to wall, whole ball of wax, whole enchilada, whole nine yards, whole schmear, whole shooting match, whole show, wholesale, wholly, wide, wide spread




Can you think of a perfectly good line or title to slaughter? Here are a few to sink your pencil into.
All in the Family
All our dreams can come true, if you have the courage to pursue them. Walt Disney

Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
All's well that ends well.

Rest in Peace

To Whitney, the Dubai Fountains. A lovely tribute. And for my friend MJ, who passed away Saturday, from pancreatic cancer. May they both soar with the angels.

Origins Blogfest!

Today I am participating in DL Hammon's Blogfest, called Origins, in which we share when our writing dreams began. Thanks DL!

I used to think writing by the age of eight was pretty unique. But I have discovered there are many of us out there who began writing at an early age.


I can blame my mother. She home schooled me, using the Calvert School, which has been homeschooling kids for over a hundred years. I began Calvert when I was around seven, or second grade. Mom and I had a daily routine of reading, writing and ‘rithmetic. I remember memorizing lots of poems. I still know quite a few.

Mom was pleased with the course so we continued with it into the 3rd and 4th grade. A 3rd grade assignment was to write a little essay about my family. Up to that point I don’t think I’d written more than the occasional required paragraph. Mom later said she didn’t expect to get more than a page out of me. Writing was torture, both the physical act because my handwriting was HORRIBLE and because I had such a hard time with spelling being that I'm dyslexic.


I surprised everyone, including myself, when I pumped out three pages describing “My Family.” Despite the fact that the pages are long gone, one word from my essay has become part of the family vocabulary. In describing my sister and me I called us “the grils.” At least I was consistent; I called us grils throughout the whole piece. Erva and I have been known as “the grils” ever since.

From that day to this I've been writing, my mother being my biggest cheer-leader, always encouraging me. Years later she gave me The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron.


 








In her lovely fluid script Mom inscribed it thus: For Bish Follow the Way Love Mom.


I do, to the best of my ability.


So, who can you blame for being your inspiration and reason for writing?

Definitions

"I know you believe you understand what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant..." Quote from a counted cross-stitch picture given to my father.

***

Definitions is a recurring post in which I delve into the meanings of words that are obscure, interesting, or new to me.

Recently I read The Candlemass Road by George MacDonald Fraser. This delightful historical novel takes place during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I on the Scottish/English border, during a time of much raiding and violence being committed by both sides. It took me a several pages to get into the flow of reading it as it is written in first person, using the language and sentence structure of the time.

Needless to say I was introduced to some interesting words from the period. Many of these words are Scottish and have more than one meaning. You can investigate them further at Dictionary of the Scots Language. Others are English.

brangling: a heated argument. They were brangling over who would pay for supper.

chirugeon/chirugeor: surgeon. I can't imagine a chirugeon in the late 16th century operating on me!

cingle: girdle. She wore a right pretty cingle about her waist.

clart/clarting: smearing with mud, dirtying. The horses were clarted with mud after the long wet ride.

devoir: to do one's duty or one's best. He did his devoir towards wife and family.

hempen: made of hemp. He was hung for his crimes with a hempen rope.

ingle: a hearth fire. "Go and light the ingle, it's cold in here."

jordan: chamber pot, no further need to explain

malapert: an impudent or saucy person. She was a right malapert, she was, tossing her head at me in defiance.

oxter: the armpit or to be carried under one's arm. She carried the wee babe in her oxter.

pintle: penis....sounds so like the object named!

shent: put to shame, confounded, ruined. I was shent of my wounds that would take long to heal.

skelp: a smack, blow or slap. He laid such a skelp on my head I was dizzy for hours. 

snell:  quick, acute, piercing, keen, grievous, severe. A snell wind blew through the trees.

strappado: torture in which the victim's arms are dislocated by hoisting and dropping. OUCH1

swither:  to hesitate or be undecided. She was all in a swither about which dress to wear.

These are just a few of the ones that struck my fancy. I'm particularly fond of brangling and swither. So descriptive. Are there any you might use in your writing?

Charlotte's Books (and good news)

Charlotte and Gus on their deck with an expansive view of ocean.

I've written about Charlotte before (click here) and will no doubt write about her again. She was a person who left deep and loving imprints on my life.

Her husband Gus was equally memorable, but it is memories of Charlotte I keep going back to.

Besides being a Suffragette, she was part of the famous Algonquin Round Table, having lunch with the likes of Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley. She also wrote editorials for the New York Times.

It seems only natural then, that once she and Gus settled on St. John, she would write about the island. She wrote two books.

I've been on the hunt for them for a long time, but it was difficult as  neither my sister, Erva, or I could remember the titles! Just a year or so ago Googling her name hadn't produced anything except what I had written about her in my blogs. But the internet is an amazing thing. While I was doing a little research for last Monday's blog on Reef Bay, I came across a quote from one of her books. OH JOY! I had a title. I Googled it. And there it was, staring me in face. Not just the one book, but BOTH of them!

From the Foreword: "Charlotte Dean Stark and her husband first visited the Virgin Islands as the result of reading  Desmond Holdridge's Escape to the Tropics. The moment they set foot on St. John, they wanted to stay there forever, but business in New York and Connecticut took them back to the States.

"Mrs Stark worked for the New York Times, writing editorials and selecting the poem appearing daily on the editorial page."

In the Acknowledgments she wrote: that Harper editors said they "admire the observation and the writing." And Little Brown & Company said, "It's all warm and intimate." These were rejections. Charlotte went on to self-publish Souvenir of St. John in 1958!

Some True Tales and Legends,  self-published in 1960, is more like a pamphlet or chapbook.

I often spent week-ends with Gus and Charlotte and many were the mornings when I'd be curled up on the couch reading a book like The Secret Garden or A Doorway in Fairyland while Charlotte clacked away on her typewriter.

I am absolutely delighted to have these little volumes in my collection of books about the Virgin Islands.

Good News!
Back in December I got an email from Andrea Milam, editor of Five Quarters, the St. John Historical Society's newsletter. She asked if I'd be interested in contributing an article. It seems someone from the SJHS is/was/had been reading my blog, for she wanted me to work up an article based on THIS blog about our Mobile Gas Station. After a little reworking I sent it off. I'm thrilled to announce "The Little Pre-Fab that Could," is in the February issue. I'd love to be able to throw up a link, but one has to be a member of the St. John Historical to get the newsletter. Thanks Andrea.

Has anything from your past been returned to you? Have you gotten any writing requests through your blog?

Abrstactions

Abstractions, a recurring post, is one of my all time favorite ways to play with words. An abstraction is a concept that acts as a super-categorical noun for all subordinate concepts, and connects any related concepts as a group, field, or category. (Clear?) They are words like love, hate, joy, beauty, cunning, disgust. Abstractions make fine writing prompts as well as being a kind of poetry or a piece of flash fiction.

Write two or three sentences using the following simple rules.You can change them around.
 1: Abstraction plus verb plus place
 2: Describe what the abstraction is wearing
 3: Summarize the action






Today's ABSTRACTION is: HOPE

Hope, by George Frederic Watts (1817-1904)

Wearing a sheer silken shift, Hope seeps into the tiniest cracks. She permeates even the most misanthropic mind and will not be denied.


Hope hides behind the curtain.
Dressed in light
She sings us out of darkness.

Now it's your turn. I "hope" you'll share your abstraction in the comments.