I’ve left a message today, on the BLOG page instead of leaving a post. Click the image, if you please.
In addition to WordPress and Twitter, Mr. G’s is now active at Minds.com!
What is “Minds”? Well, it’s really very much like Facebook, but with-out all the threats of censorship and bias. You can post your opinions, your latest escapades, what-ever you happen to be thinking at the moment, and you can share it all, across the board, with-out those looming threats of being silenced, “suspended”, “banned”, “deleted”.
Pictures? You want pictures? They’re there too!
Video? You want video? YES! THAT TOO!
A FAR, FAR CRY from the “Romper Room” kindergarten nonsense of the likes of Twitter and Facebook, Minds leaves what you see up to YOU! Offended? Simply “block” the poster. It doesn’t stop them from expressing themselves, and it doesn’t stop you from expressing YOUR self either. And, unlike the “snowflakes” and oppressive personalities that have conquered other social media, being “blocked” doesn’t cause all sorts of retaliation! Everybody simply moves on.
So, if you’re not on Minds, may we suggest that you give it a try? Look us up, check the time-line. Get your own account and HAVE A BLAST ON SOCIAL MEDIA AGAIN! FREE! AND you get “POINTS” for your participation on Minds… points that you can use for all sorts of fun activities like “BOOST”ing your posts, making them visible to more people. Or, you can SEND POINTS to others, to help THEM in their efforts to get their information out to more people. And there’s MORE to it all. Bottom line… Minds is the way to go for those of you who have something to say to the world!
Note: There was a “page” on Facebook for Mr. G’s… It’s gone. It became too nerve-shattering. The comments and correspondence became annoying, to say the least. And there was always the threat of Facebook staff doing what they do best: Just blocking or deleting. As I say, Minds has posts, paragraphs, writing, art, all sorts of media… and it’s UNCENSORED AND UNCENSORING!
C’mon over to Minds.com … we’ll be waiting there, as always, looking forward to seeing you and hearing from you.
BETTER THAN FACEBOOK! G’s is now on Minds.com! Come over, set-up your own account (you’ll LOVE IT!) and post, post, POST! Comments, pictures… what-ever! We’ll be waiting, either on the porch or at the juke-box. We’ll be there and as always, you’ll be welcome!
When I was a mere child, my Mum would take me along with her when she’d “visit the cemetery”. We’d walk along the rows of head-stones, reading the names and I’d hear my Mum comment on the ages of some of the folks there, under those granite slabs. Some were, what I thought of as “reasonable old”, having lived many (70, 80 or 90) years.
Others though, would break my Mum’s voice as she commented “So young…” and tears would well in her eyes.
As we strolled, quietly and respectfully, some graves were decorated with flowers, candles (we didn’t have “solar lights” back then, yet), some had photos, others had trinkets. The grass was clipped neatly, no dust on the head-stone, well-attended. But others weren’t so “fine”. They were dusty, black soot and soil in the deeper crevices of the ornate carvings on granite. There were no flowers, no lights, and the grass grew high above the base of the stone. They were desolate in comparison to the others.
“Please…” my Mother would say, “one of these days my turn will come to be here. But please, do your best to see to it that my grave never looks like nobody remembers me or cares whether I lived or died. I don’t want other people coming by and thinking ‘She must be all alone now, there. Look, there’s nobody to care for her grave anymore.'”
Mum’s been gone almost 31 years now. She died at the age of 55 years. I used to live close enough to make sure her wish was honoured… at least twice yearly. These days, well, I’m on what I think of as “7 years borrowed time”… 7 years older now than she was then, when she died. There are others who can take care of her little bit of real estate. They’re closer to it than the several 100 miles that I am. (I can only hope that they respect her as much as she SO deserved.)
Hopefully, there will be those who will remember G’s, and those of us who were there…
It was the 1970’s, Disco music was only just coming along, “DJ’s” were prying their way into the rule, realm and reign of the “juke-box”, we could dance and drink, laugh and cry for a night, a full day, a full week-end, and never lose a breath. Who of us ever thought it would ever end?
If you were there, if you know of some-one who was, at G’s, and they’re no longer dancing on this Earth, please(?), feel free to remind us all. It’s said “the Internet is forever”. Well, obviously we’re not, but if the Internet is… one day, some-where, some-body will stumble here, some-how… and Mr. G’s will STILL “be”.
Please… stop by the “Memorial” page if you would… I mean…
WHO would EVER have thought “our time” would come?
Who would ever have thought they’d be the one left to remember?
Juke Box Page change:
Some of you are going to to feel right back right at home with the lay-out of the page today and others will either think “Old School” or “WT… is THIS?” But the page is called “JukeBox” and, well, this is what a “JukeBox” looked like in the 1970’s (before the dawn of the “DJ”, CDs, MP3’s and the likes). Weren’t we barbarians of music and entertainment though?
Kind of like the days when we had to get up off the chair or sofa, walk over to the TV and turn a dial to change the channel, back then, in the “Dark Ages”, WE had to navigate across a dance-floor (do THOSE even exist any more?) to get to, well, a large, lighted “box” that held a collection of vinyl discs (we called them “records”), 100 or more, insert cash-money and search through a display of labels that were printed with the title of the song, the artist (band?) and in the fine print, reference information that we never bothered with because, well, it didn’t really concern us, to be honest.
Personally, I recall when the selection prices read:
5 cents for each play.
10 cents for 3 selections.
25 cents for 5 selections.
Some-where, the prices increased:
10 cents per play.
25 cents for 3 selections.
(And I don’t recall if there was an option for more because at that time in my life, 25 cents was about all I’d put toward juke-box music. It was a bit before the time when music, dancing and dance-floors weren’t all that important to me. But time moved forward and with it came the unavoidable “changes”…)
At some point, probably in the early 1970’s, inflation hit (and I hit the dance-halls)!
25 cents for each play.
50 cents for 3 selections.
A DOLLAR got you 5 selections.
Yes, admittedly, it was a bit of an inconvenience to have to take the time to go to that, if you’ll pardon the expression but it’s what we thought of it, “tin whore”. (No offence intended. We were the era before “PC”… “Political Correctness”.) In order to keep the music playing, SOMEBODY HAD to keep dropping money and making selections. Alas…
But HEY! We had choices! WE got to select the music we wanted to hear, whether it be to dance… with some-one, alone (yes, we did), quick-step or slow, frivolous or romantic, or just to sit with thoughts, memories and dreams. AND, more often than not, we could almost tell who was at “The Lodge” by the music that played (and how often).
As for me, my heart jumps back to associations, people-to-music, with “Bernadette”, “Denise”, “Love Train”, “Could It Be I’m Falling In Love”, “Listen To The Music”, “I’m A Winner”, and “Think”. If any of these played more than once through the night, I knew that some-body in particular was there, some-where, in the crowd. Repeats of any of these usually meant that one (or more) of a “Group of 9” where, as they say today “In The House”… the “Family” had arrived, and the best of times were about to roll! Today, as I compiled and post this list and page, only a possible 3 of the 9 remain. As I wrote in the post Time, much has changed as the years rolled by. But the associations are still very much alive in my heart and soul, and though some may not be “In The House”, they’re still in mind and heart and soul. One of these days it’ll be my turn to join them. I’d like to think, to believe they’re already there, at a table, on the dance floor, strolling through the crowds… waiting…
Meanwhile, here’s the page, with the list, with the labels, and each label is a link to the music. I hope you’ll give yourself the pleasure of having a listen to some or all of the tunes and when you do, I hope they’ll inspire you, bring back or make beautiful, wonderful, fondest memories and maybe even a bit of dancing (like nobody’s looking… be FREE!).
If you’d be kind enough, please have a look at the new page and let me know what you think of it… what-ever you think of it. After all, just as Mr. G’s Round Hill Lodge was there, by the human-kindness of George, for us, this “site”, this “blog” this “Juke-Box” page is here for you. Your input is welcome, appreciated and will certainly be respected and reflected. At the bottom of the list of labels is a “comment” space. What-ever you have to say will come directly and won’t be posted to the page. (If you want to post a “public notice” the Guests & Residents page is there for you too as is a “Contact” page. Which-ever you prefer.
For now though, as always, know that I thank you for your visits, and for passing the word along that Mr. G’s is up, running and alive. The place itself may be long gone, but the memory will live on until…..
Post Date: Wednesday, 15 March 2017
One day you wake up with memories so vivid that you can see the surroundings, bright, vivid, so real that you some-how feel and almost believe that you can reach out and touch everything around you. There, just there, are all the people, some you know, others who are welcome strangers. They’re talking, and you can hear their conversations.
“You made it! How was your week? Oh, mine too. Are you going in? Good. I’ve got first round. I wonder who else is here tonight.”
“I’m so nervous! I want to just go up and say ‘Hi.’ but I don’t know if I even dare!”
“Hey! Listen! Somebody ELSE is playing my song. I wonder who did that? Maybe even more, I wonder WHY. You wanna dance? C’mon. Let’s.”
And some-where, in your mind, in your heart, in your soul, you can hear the music coming through the open front door. You can hear your feet crunching on the gravel drive as you head for the steps that lead up to the grand, old front porch. You can almost feel the stones beneath your feet, and you can smell the air around you, full of clean, Summer breeze, the pines, the grass and all the different colognes and perfumes all mingled together and yet, each one unique. They all mingle with scents of the cigarettes and liquor that waft out, around and up into the night air.
Your heart races a little, with the anticipation of being amongst good, really good Friends, and maybe a little exhilaration because “he” might be here tonight and OH! even just being in the same room starts your heart beating to the rhythm of the music and swaying in syncopated time with the general energy of all that and all who are around you. It makes you wonder, even now “Do I look OK?” and “Am I going to dance well enough?” And… “What do I say after ‘Hi.’?” “Will we get to dance together?” “I just don’t know!” But your legs keep moving you forward and your head reels just ever so slightly. And you think “Tonight! YES! Tonight! I’m NOT going to let THIS one pass by too. Tonight I’ll just take the chance and… It’s too hard not knowing. It’s miserable thinking I might be disappointed. But it’s even worse thinking that I might be missing the greatest chance for the GREATEST moment of my entire life-time. It’ll be better knowing, one way or the other. I can’t just keep going along not knowing anything and just jumping to my own conclusions. Tonight…!” You’re in the front door, the music is playing, people are moving about. And you’re almost giddy. “Don’t look stupid! Don’t look all crazy and excited. Friends. It’s all Friends. Find a waiter. Get a spot. Have a drink. Here it goes.”
The “regular” crowd is here tonight, as usual. Familiar faces and voices. They’re all, pretty much together, in the groups that form from place-to-place, town-to-town. Newburgh, Beacon, Fishkill, Poughkeepsie… There are the people who come up from The City, new faces, some, and others are even rather “regular”, having made the trip this time as they do and have done all the while. It’s early enough, and they keep to their own as they commandeer a table or two, or a particular corner off the dance floor. You see them, hear them chatting, talking and laughing. Before the night is done, their groups will disperse into the crowds and the confines of their geographies will disappear as greetings and meetings evolve, new conversations pull one from here into over there, and dancing puts everybody, at one time or another, together on the centre floor. Before the lights come up for “LAST CALL”, the little “villages” will have long melded and some will have disappeared out and into the night, others will linger until the last note escapes from the juke-box and droning voices replace orchestra, rhythm and beats. Little-by-little, one-by-one, two-by-two or more-by-more they, we will all eventually make our way back to that front door and back out into the world… eventually. But not now! Now it’s time to move on in, check to see who’s here, re-connect with “Family” (because that’s truly who these people are… not “relatives” but “Family”) and make new acquaintances, meet the “new members”, and like all the rest, turn this all from “them and us” to “us”, the ones who are here becoming the “one” who are here.
A waiter comes round as you stand observing, you place an order and off he goes, holding a perfectly-balanced tray in one hand lifted over his own head AND over the heads of those on the dance floor across which he swings and sways, twists and turns, body in one direction and another and all the while, the tray seems to mysteriously hover, un-tilting, un-moved. He’s made it through the dancers and steps, still in time with the music, through the door to the left of the juke-box and he’s gone… but only for a short while. Before the record playing has reached its last lyric, he’s back with your drink, takes your payment, thanks you kindly and sincerely and is off again… on to the next. You take a long-awaited gulp of your beverage, light a cigarette, inhale, exhale and… begin to settle in your vantage spot where you glean, glance and take attendance…
She’s here. He’s there. They’re here. They’re over there. You’re here. And YES! There! Over there! Right… over… THERE!
Some days you find yourself surrounded by the most beautifully cherished moments, embraced by the time, the events, and sometimes even the people. Some times it’s actually palpable, like the precious arms of a loved one, wrapped firmly around you, holding you so close that quite honestly, there’s no difference between you and them. You’re warmed, welcomed, wrapped, comforted, loved, in love, at peace. You hear the voices, the music playing. Your soul is rocking, dancing, swaying. Your heart beats to a joyful, happy, contented rhythm. And all the world is Utopia, Heaven, perfect…
And your eyes suddenly clear, the focus changes, the juke-box has stopped playing, the conversations and the laughter has gone silent, a breeze brushes against and across your face and as the light of “LAST CALL” brightens…
It’s 44 years later. Oh my god! It’s 44 years later! I haven’t finished my drink. My cigarette is still smouldering. My heart is still racing in exhilarating anticipation. She’s gone. He’s gone. They’re gone. It’s gone. You’re here… alone.
I did get to say “I Love You.” And I did get to hear “I Love You Too.” I can still say “I Love You” and mean it as much today as I did every time I said it before. And I can still hear “I Love You Too”… in my heart… 44 years later.
43 years ago… The juke-box stopped playing and the lights went out. The place burned to the ground and left nothing but traces of its existence that Time continues working on to obliterate. But I can still hear the music, the voices, see the lights, feel the gravel beneath my feet, climb the stair and breathe the air with all its fragrances. And from the door across that grand old porch at the top of the old wooden stairs I can still hear the lyrics:
“Some day… some sweet day… we’ll be together. Yes we will oh, yes we will.”
And though time goes by
Have you ever been gripped or grabbed by a memory, so strongly that it actually feels like a hug so tight that it’s uncomfortable? Or perhaps a thought, a bit of a flash-back, as it were, that comes out of no-where in particular, and it literally stops your breath?
Sometimes it’s a melody, a beat, or even a few notes into a particular song, contemporary or what we used to call an “oldie”. You hear the plucked guitar string, or a few keys on an organ or piano being struck, and with-in mere seconds, your soul actually takes to the ether, on a flight through time and space, to a moment, a place, an event, and there you are again… at the very situation and circumstance, physically surrounding you. The people are there (or “the” person is there), it’s the same time of day, the air is the same, the scent is the same… nothing’s changed. It’s as if when you left, all of time left with you… you grew up, away and older, but “back there”, they all suddenly stopped, as if knowing that you’d be back, some-day, some-how, and they waited… they waited for you… all of them waited, knowing some-day you’d be back. And there they all are, right where they were when you left them.
The voices haven’t changed. The music is still playing. Perfumes, colognes, the scent of the trees and grass are very much in the “now”. And from some place, in your heart, even though to everybody around you at this present moment you’re still in “today”, you can, or maybe it’s your soul that can, reach out, take the hand of a Lover, bring him or her in close to you and hold firmly, warmly, lovingly, again. And if that melody is in the air, just like then, back there in the “when”, you can dance together as you did. Be it a quick-step or a slow dance, there you are… HERE you are, together in that exact moment that was. You can even, actually feel body warmth, the breeze that blew at that time, the touch of the hands, and the scent of bodies… together.
All the while, in what we call “reality”, your being is standing or sitting in a place and time far, FAR removed from “then”. Only your heart and soul are with that some-one. And nobody around you “now” has ANY idea.
Inside you, your heart, soul, mind, it’s all beautiful again. It’s all happy, again. It’s all new and amazing, again. Inside you… your heart… your soul…. and… then…
The “dream” doesn’t stop and your soul doesn’t come slamming back, but your awareness of your surroundings impinges, creeps into your mind and with your eyes you see that those people aren’t with you, with your ears you don’t hear their voices or the music… but you hold on… you HOLD ON!!! AS TIGHTLY AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN, YOU GRAB TIGHTLY, AND HOLD CLOSELY … grab tightly… and hold closely… SO tightly and OH! SO closely… so… so… SO… but reality wraps round your memories, and although you still have them, deep inside you where no one can take them from you, the present clamps and clenches, like steel around your chest, and it tightens until your heart is about to explode… you’re not there and they’re not with you and worse yet? Even if you got into a car, a plane, onto a bus or a boat and got to the place where it all happened, once… upon a time, THEY aren’t there and… THERE isn’t there… any more.
Have you ever been gripped or grabbed by a memory, so strongly that it actually literally stops your breath?
These were the days of “pre-Disco disco” or the “early Disco” days, when people still danced… together and began to dance alone. The 1960’s were drifting away slowly and yet, still mingling with the 1970’s that were rolling in. With a shuffle-shuffle, kick-kick, turn-turn, kick, Van McCoy had us in a “Hustle” and it was “Too Late To Turn Back Now”.
But as long as there’s a beat in my heart, those days will stay alive, the memories will live on and “I’ll Be Around”.
Have a look at the list and take a stroll with me through some really wonderful times. If I could, I’d bring you all to the place itself. But since it’s gone, maybe we can meet in some memories. For those of you who weren’t around yet, back then, “in the day”, I’m sorry, truly, that you missed the opportunity to really live “Life”! But maybe, just maybe, if you get to listen to the music, you can start some memories and moments of your own, to hold, as I do, deep and close in your heart.
And as I say and will continue to say:
If there’s anybody out there who knows the old juke-box and sees something missing, or something I’ve put on that shouldn’t be there, PLEASE let me know. I’m still here… and I’ll keep working on this until…