Here are the results of my June 15 Battle of the Bands, which pitted three songs named “Pillow Talk” against each other. The votes have been tallied, and here are the results.
Congratulations to Sylvia, and a hearty “thank you for playing, here’s a year’s supply of Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco Treat” to Zayn and Wild Child.
Next battle will be Monday, July 1. Be sure to join us then!
It’s weird that, on the second day of summer, I’m writing about fall, or if you prefer, autumn, but when I hear “leaves” that’s where my mind goes, maybe because of the song “Autumn Leaves.” Here’s a beautiful version of the song done by the late Eva Cassidy.
Jim Gaffigan has a particularly funny take on fall…
Fall is the season when professional hockey starts in North America, and wouldn’t you know, one of the teams is the Toronto Maple Leafs?
That’s the Maple Leafs, not the Maple Leaves. That way, you can say that Mitch Marner is a Toronto Maple Leaf and John Tavares is a Maple Leaf, and together they’re two Maple Leafs. Saying they were Maple Leaves would just be weird. Kind of like this discussion…
Stream of Consciousness Saturday is brought to you each week by Linda Hill and this station. Now a word from Post, makers of Fruity and Chocolate Pebbles. They’re fruity-licious!
KNUZ sounds like it should be an all-news station, but it was a Top 40 station in the ’50’s and ’60s and into the ’70’s, when it lost the Top 40 market to KILT. It was a country station from the ’70’s until 1989, when it changed its callsign to KQUE (to match with its sister FM station at 102.9) and became a news-talk station. It’s been through multiple changes since then and is now KCOH, which had broadcasted at 1430 AM, returning to that station’s Urban format. Anyway, KNUZ was doing Top 40 in 1957, so let’s see what they were playing 62 years ago/
And that’s The Friday 5×2 for June 21, 2019.
One of this week’s prompts is
Share a story about a sleepwalker.
My mother, who I loved dearly and miss more than anything sometimes, could tell that someone was crazy. She had a degree in psychology, which I guess qualified her to identify psychosis. She used this skill on many occasions, telling me that I shouldn’t hang around with certain kids because they were “goofs,” and I think she was convinced that I was a few crayons shy of a full box. For example, I talk to myself. I think everyone does to some extent, but most people keep it to themselves. She was worried about this, and consulted my uncle, the neurosurgeon, on what to do about it.
He asked her, “Where does he talk to himself?”
“The bathroom,” she replied.
“That’s terrible!” he said. “I talk to myself in the basement!” She never brought the subject up again.
Apparently, for a short time after Dad died, I was a sleepwalker. The story goes that one night, Mom woke up and heard someone trying to open the lock on the back door, went to investigate, and found me there. She asked me what I was doing, and I told her that I was going to school. She led me back to bed, and that was that.
I got up the next morning (I think it was Saturday), totally unaware that any of this had transpired. When Mom got up, she said she wanted to talk to me. In her usual calm and loving manner, she gave me the third degree about what was bothering me, because (in her world, anyway) “people just don’t walk in their sleep for no reason.”
This was a little upsetting, because number one, I had no idea that I had done it, and number two, nothing in particular was “bothering” me. In time, I was able to convince her that nothing other than losing Dad (which had happened a year and a half earlier) was bothering me, I had no current stressors, and really, I was fine. She seemed to accept that, and I figured that the matter was effectively resolved.
A couple of weeks later, I got up one morning and was informed that I had, once again, walked in my sleep. Again I was able to convince her that all was well and that I had no explanation as to why I would get out of bed while still asleep and attempt to go to school (or wherever) in my pajamas. Again, I figured the issue was resolved. Which it was, to a certain extent. See, the phone in the house was close to the back porch, where we spent a lot of time watching TV. One day, I thought I heard her tell someone, in what passed for sotto voce, “Johnny walks in his sleep, and he says he doesn’t know why.”
Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Crisis averted.
From 1959, Santo and Johnny Farina… the beautiful “Sleep Walk.”
I’m sure all you Twitter users out there can relate. I found this quite by accident.
One-Liner Wednesday is brought to you each week by Linda Hill and this station. Now a word about Increda-Bubble bubble gum. It pops inside your mouth!
