Shimmy like Sister...

I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate

by Angel Katana on Thursday, September 15, 2011 at 8:44am

  I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate
 (Piron)
Transcribed from Anna Jones, accompanied by Fats Waller, piano; recorded 6/1923.
From Fats Waller 1922-1926; The Chronogical Classics, 664.
I went to a dance with my sister Kate;
Everybody there thought she danced so great;
I realized a thing or two,
When I got wise to something new:
When I looked at Kate, she was in a trance,
And then I knew it was in her dance;
All the boys are going wild
Over sister Katie's style.
Oh, I wish I could I shimmy like my sister Kate;
She shimmies like a jelly on a plate.
My mama wanted to know last night,
What makes the boys think Kate's so nice.
Now all the boys in the neighborhood,
They know that she can shimmy and it's understood;
I know that I'm late, but I'll be up-to-date
When I shimmy like my sister Kate.
I mean, when I shimmy like my sister Kate.
Now I can shimmy like my sister Kate,
I know that I'm real late,
I think I'll do a real shimmy dance,
Dancing like my sister Kate,
Sweet papa, just like my sister Kate.

Reflections on Aging

from Sunday, September 27, 2009 at 2:55pm

I don't feel old when I see the fine lines or grey hair; I don't feel old when I see the brown spots on my wrists or skin that is beginning to look like my mother's. I just don't feel old. My kids are all out of high school; does that make me old. I don't think so. Doesn't seem like it. So I don't feel or look old. Until yesterday.
I got to go to Provo to attend a BYU game. I parked in Helaman Halls parking (no sticker required on Sat) early. We used to park there, walk by the track to the stadium...good times, good times. I walked up to campus. My, how it's changed!!! Walked on the sidewalk on the hill where I met one of my college loves, sigh. I walked up that hill every day as a freshman. I lived in Helaman Halls. Right over there in Merrill Hall (Merrill Marvels/A Wonder to Behold Be Held...now it a men's dorm according to Brooke Ford). There is the Admin bldg, same as ever, and whatever building that was that I had some English class in. I have gone back 30 years in mere minutes. And feel so young again. And remember who I was and what I went through and what I learned. And crash, I FEEL OLD...I AM OLD!!! These little punks walking don't see what I'm seeing. They see me old. And some of the freshman are younger than my baby! I actually misted up. Nostalgia first. Then the realization...I'M OLD. Certainly not as young as I think I am. So to prove I really am not so old, I prepare to shortcut down a hill. Allegra Bel convinces me not to...but I'm pretty sure the boys do. But then I find a place where I can go down to the parking lot. But then Allegra Bel is, "Careful Aunt Edonna!" Puleeze! You're not helping any!!!

I had such a nice time at the game. The band still marching the flowing soflty moves...which I Never liked...I like the precision marching...And I actually got to sit on the west side, back to the sun, nice. Next year, Homecoming.

I'm still not really old.

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No one really shares the awful stuff

by Edonna L Flake on Thursday, December 17, 2009 at 6:20pm

Our comments are thought provoking. Joyful. Silly. Entertaining. Informative. Or sometimes just too much information, but not from my friends.

Bonnie shared the news that Danny finally succumbed to cancer. That's a biggie. Babies get sick. We get frustrated at work or school. People drive stupid looking cars. School is beginning/ending/on break. Etc.

But who really shares the tragedies of their lives. I am really quite certain that I am not alone in experiencing painful learning experiences. But how do I post the sorrow and pain over my kid's choice/behavior.

Going out with friends, good friends from Lakewood High...Hi how are you? Fine, I got a sinus infections from sobbing over my son. How are you?

And DD tried to explain that you can't send stamps to jail. Stupid naive me. Apparently someone figured out you can hide bad stuff under a stamp.

So, do we not care about one another. I know I weep with/for my friends. Rejoice with them. Lend an ear. So we care. Is it too public? Are we too private with our pain? Is it just not to share? I learned the long hard way about talking too much with just anyone after my divorce. The filter was damaged. Why do I think I need to say it? idk Why burden someone else.

I'm rambling. I'm sick. I'm tired. I'm done. And it's probably too much information for some. I apologize.

Special delivery to Spokane

from Thursday, December 24, 2009 at 3:47pm

I wanted to make my sister a table top water fountain for Christmas. After some fits and starts getting a design, I figured out that the rocks I got and the amount of rocks were heavier than I originally planned. And upon further pondering, I realized I had qualms about boxing up rocks and paying to send them through the mail. After all, Trina has rocks in her yard. Really, paying for a heavy box of rocks made no sense to me. I considered sending a gift card to Home Depot to get her own (or wash the ones from the yard.) Ben suggested I personally deliver them. The "seats available" looked good so off I went.

I put the pot in with my clothes, wrapped with the t-shirt and socks. I double bagged the rocks and put them in the same duffel. I wondered if TSA would consider them dangerous. I mean, Goliath died.

Sure enough. I watched my duffel go through the x-ray. I saw what she saw on that screen. I saw the look on her face. And was not surprised when she pulled my duffel off the belt and informed me that she was taking a look inside. I told her to look under the jeans. The look on her face was wonderful. Yes, there really were rocks in there. She said it did look a little funny on the screen. I knew that.

I put the fountain together for Trina last night. Brooke has lived in dorms and apartments for 1 1/2 years at college. I'm not sure if that experience lead to her reaction to the gurgling and trickling that came from the fountain as it sat on the counter and we watched BYU basketball, interspersed with Utah football. Brooke observed that it sounded like someone taking care of business in the bathroom. Then she got up and went to the bathroom herself. (I think she was getting ready to work out, but the timing was more than coincidental?)

Rachel came in from a day on the slopes with friends.

I felt so lucky to sit with that "boring" family. Stephan came home; Trina, the girls and I had just finished eating. The something bowl was on and Utah was playing. So everyone was just sitting together. Boring is nice. Even peaceful.

Trina had called back after I asked if I could come. She was remembering events from the previous visit (not her fault). I told her I really just wanted to sit quietly in a warm safe place. The Ford home is that.

1st Night in Philly

from Friday, January 1, 2010 at 10:31am

I did not jump up on the #10 trolley in time. Taylor srung aboard. I didn't know to knock or pound or stick my foot in to keep the door open. And off it went, Taylor was just shrugging his shoulders with a smirk.
I didn't even remember what trolley had just left Market & 30th St station. I was just going to follow Taylor. He also knew the stop, as close to 37th Ave as possible. I wondered if I should get scared for my safety. Another trolley came in and out. I asked a group of teenage boys what trolley had left. They knew it was 10 which sounded familiar. Then I waited for the next #10, which was a while in coming.

I hoped Taylor would get off on the next stop and wait for me. Nope. And not the next one.

There was no phone service being several layers underground. And my phone was on yellow bars at that.

So when I heard 36th street stop, it sounded good and I got off. It was dark. I have no idea if this is a good neighborhood or not. But no one is on the street anyways. I can see a few lights in windows of street level stores.

I called Taylor; he was at 38th street and we wanted 37th street so we walked toward each other.

I had made reservation at a B&B in University City, it turned out, near Drexel Univ. I checked in and we walked back to a Thai restaurant that I had passed and was recommended by Janet, the innkeeper. She also said that I could call for a free escort service (not the kind that 1st comes to mind), but a real one where someone will come out and walk you or follow on a bike.

My son is a good sport. I didn't get out the door in time to go to Independence Hall before I met him after work. I drug him along as I went to see for real what I used to go see at Knott's Berry Farm. It's pretty much that last place he would visit in Philadelphia.

I had a nice visit with Taylor. And I am secure that he has warm outerwear now.

Reason #103 I love to teach!

From April 22, 2010
I gave the students the materials to play with inertia. One of the activities involved a pint-sized plastic milk bottle, a 10" embroidery hoop and 4 hex nuts. They stand the hoop at the opening of the bottle and balance a hex nut at the top and try to grab the hoop away and let the hex nut fall into the bottle. Notice how I continually call these "hex nuts". The record today was 8 hex nuts dropped in at once; second place was 5 at a time.

My first two classes are small, and I had enough plastic bottles for 6 groups. But the next class needed materials for 7 groups. The 7th hoop was on the table so the 7th group got it. They asked me for the other supplies, and I got out a graduated cylinder and gave it to them. I returned to the front of the room, continued to monitor the progress, and grade notebooks.

From the back of the room over the din and the clamor of activity, I hear, "Miss, I have no nuts!" I looked up. Not a soul was reacting. Except the kid in the back with the red shirt and redder face. His head was cradled in his arms. I quietly walked back and asked him if I heard what I thought I heard. He repeated it. So I have him some HEX nuts.

I snorted and chuckled for the rest of the day.

When I told the story to my last class, only 2 kids laughed. Apparently the rest of them have not learned enough English. So, being a class I trust, I taught them some more English. I did warn them that if they used it in front of me, I would write a referral. When I used the word "testicles" I got more reaction. Apparently some of them know anatomy and physiology terms. And a few more got how funny the situation was.

I love my students!!

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Who's to Blame? My kid is a Punk.

I thought it started about 14 years ago. Miles was about 13 when he discovered the Ramones. I saw the patches and heard the music. Taylor and Serena became acquainted with them. Serena and Miles have identified themselves at various times in their lives as punks. The look, the attitude, the music of the punk rock genre permeated their existence. I used to think it went downhill after that.

I knew Miles would like music. In February 1984, Leticia held a beach party in her Provo apartment. It was a long cold winter that year, and we needed a break (us California girls). I was 7+ months pregnant. The Beach Boys dominated the stereo cassette player. Mr. P was probably there, pre-fiance status, so there may have been other music as well. But it would have been cool stuff, cuz we were. Cool. Miles, in utero, reacted. With enthusiasm. I finally had to lay down on Leticia's king-sized water bed and just let the baby rock out.

At some point early on of this saturation of punk music, maybe Miles was still in high school even, I had a memory from Wausau, Wisconsin. Jeff and I were living there for the summer. It was 1983. We were newlyweds. Idealistic, hopeful, romantic. Jeff came home from work one day and said we were going to a show. It was in a bar. I had never done that before. But he said was important we go because the band was important in the punk rock scene.


Jeff loved music. Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones were favorites. We were heavy into the New Wave scene. I have a picture of him looking like Sting. Still one of my favs(can't find it just now), the picture that is-well Sting is OK too. Music was part of our relationship. We won a dance contest dancing to...?

So we went to the show. It was a dive. It was loud. I had no clue who the band was. My only memory of that night is "it was loud". I don't think I got it. And it was probably late and I am NOT a night owl.

As I considered that night and the band, whose name I didn't know then and couldn't quite remember, I wondered if it was the Ramones. And began telling the kids that I thought I had seen them.

Never got around to looking it up. Finally remembered to ask the ex-husband who had taken me there.
Here is the message from Facebook yesterday:

• 

  14 hours ago

  Edonna L Flake

  • what punk band did we see that summer in WI at some dive bar. All I remember is LOUD. But you said it was someone important in the punk scene of 1983.
• 

  9 hours ago

  Jeff Berrett

  • it was either the Ramones or the Romantics. I like to think it was the Ramomes. I can not find if they were touring where that summer
  • Oh my the Ramones were in Wausau, Wisconsin on June 3rd 1983. We were there. Wow. Take that punk rock children
     
     
     
     

BAM!!!!!!!!!
Ditto Jeff-Take that punk rock children!!

And I wasn't pregnant yet, so Miles was NOT there.