Spoonful Cafe'

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Author Topic: The Spoonful Caf  (Read 56540 times)

DH

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #30 on: January 25, 2006, 08:14:39 PM »

Stopped by last night and enjoyed the peace and friendship for a few minutes before bed.  It is good to see so many visitors.

Egbert, what kind of drinks do you want me to stock for you?  Let me see what I have here, peppermint for Leah,  fennel for Jackie, there's also some ginger and a packet of bush tea from Africa.  I notice there are some Lone Star long necks in the fridge.  I think I know who those are for.   There is some kind of murky looking fish in jar, oh, I see, it's for Disa's father.  And you say these swan feathers are for Bjork? And she will understand why?  Oh, ok. 

Well, time for me to get to work.  Who wants a menu and who wants a writing pad?  There are some extra musical instruments in the back room.  Go pick something out you have never played before.  You might be surprised what happens when you hold it in your hands.

Laura, I met Rod today via email.  Meeting quality people (hello Duke) like that and seeing  them together in one place like here in Spoonful is one of the reasons I love the Internet so.

OK, who wants refills?

   
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Ron L.

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #31 on: January 25, 2006, 09:36:52 PM »

John walks in with his fiddle dangling from his left hand. His son, Jamie, is right behind him carrying the bow and a guitar. The Steamboat whistle echoes from down on the Mark Twain River. It's blends so well with the smell of newly mown hay and the cinnamon coming from a silver teapot.

There are hugs and reunions and remembered moments and friendships. There is no bitterness here. I am just an observer of wonder as I witness it through the blue smoke rising from my cigarette.

It sure seems the evening for people named John. He's no longer dressed in black but what he plays is still on his back. She's right behind him with an autoharp. Like most here, they seem to be about 30.

Bree throws that long blond hair back and says: "Honey, isn't this SOMETHIN!?"

I hang out here a lot because you never know when they're coming or when they're going to leave. Mickey stays the longest especially when the girls make the journey through the twilight. Sometimes, they go in the corner by themselves as the Sun sets over the river. Boy, if there was ever an example of love, you can feel it all the way across the room....and maybe a lot farther than that.

Just before he leaves, he comes back to the counter for another cup of Dorothy's freshly-ground coffee.

"I betcha you'd like to know what we do all the time"

"Only if you want to tell me", Dorothy replies.

He's got that look where he's about to grin and his eyes are shining.

"Well, for one thing, I like to watch movies"

"Movies? You watch MOVIES?"

"That's right. I love Westerns. Just the other night, I watched "The Colorado Kid".

His laughter was still ringing... along with the bell on the door... as he left.

 
« Last Edit: January 25, 2006, 09:41:50 PM by Ron L. »
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Jackie

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #32 on: January 26, 2006, 02:49:37 AM »

 :D

Dorothy, you mean there are magical instruments out back?  Ones that have been touched by the spirits?
You mean even I could make music like the rustle of angels`wings?

Pur me another cup of that tea,Dorothy....I think I`ll stick around.
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Larisa

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #33 on: January 26, 2006, 05:01:53 AM »

We have hummingbirds there, too, by the trellis.
There are roses, and honeysuckle.
In the summertime, we're out there all day.

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DH

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #34 on: January 26, 2006, 05:24:39 PM »

Jackie,
I'm taking a break in the hammock while the pomegranate tea I found today is steeping.  I am enjoying the sweet smell of the honeysuckle and roses Larisa planted.  Hmmm, looks like blossoms are falling from heaven tonight.  Maybe I will drop a few in the tea. 

I'd love it if you came out and joined me when you decide which instrument you want to try...first.  I'm smiling because I am anticipating the smile on your face when you start to play.   I will teach you the song I wrote about my grandfather.  Maybe he will stop by.  He plays a banjo.   

Did you bring some new pictures for me to look at?

Would be nice to hear what Leah and Laura were talking about with that handsome man they were sitting with.  Maybe they will want to tell us later, after they have savored the joy for a little while. 
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Bree

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #35 on: January 26, 2006, 05:55:17 PM »

I woke to the sounds of a thunder storm about to begin.
The wind had picked up and was blowing a branch against the window payne.

I lay there and stretched for a moment or two and enjoyed the peace that had come with the rain.
All around me were pictures of loved ones, some here and some off in the mystic.

I remembered the sky the night before and how I wished on every star.
I'm getting ready to go to The Spoonful Cafe' , going to see if any of my wishes come true.



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Doug L

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #36 on: January 26, 2006, 07:11:20 PM »

The music in the cafe today was so honest and lovely. Jonmark played a few
that we hadn't heard him do before. Magne, from Norway, played bass, Marie
was on violin, and Laura played mandolin and sang, too. A few minutes after
a late afternoon train whistle sounded, that Houston kid came in with a young
banjo player named John and a blind fella named Cortelia. They sat in a while,
and the whole place was resonating. Cortelia was hungry, so Larisa put a meal
together for him. While he ate, Mickey and John -- Hartford was his last name --
fooled around a bit, John trying soft banjo on How I Love Them Old Songs and
The Future Is Not... the latter sounding strange at first, but rounding into shape
as they found their way. When they broke into a rousing version of Why You Been
Gone So Long
, Annaleah and Bree got up and danced. John almost clogged a
hole in the hardwood floor as they jumped it. To see those two girls move together
was so lovely, and I almost fell over when Mick broke into A Few Blocks South Of
Heaven
after, and the girls waltzed. They all hung out, Cortelia played a few, and
Mick and John later had a chat going in the back booth when a young blond woman
walked in and turned everyone's head. When Mickey saw her, he came gliding over
and shared a hug with her. He introduced her to John and Cortelia. "This here's Sammi,"
he said, "the Girl Hero." He pulled his guitar into his lap right there in the booth and
as she sat down, she sang with him, "Well, mornin's come..." Laura, Bree and Annaleah
pulled stools up near the booth to be with them. Larisa said she overheard them talking
with Jonmark about maybe the whole lot of them coming back and putting on some kind
of midnight show at the Spoonful Cafe on Saturday night...
« Last Edit: January 29, 2006, 06:26:49 PM by Doug Lang »
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Craig

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #37 on: January 29, 2006, 12:02:52 PM »

He appears in the doorway like an apparition out of the mist, water gathering on the wooden floor beneath him, as it drips from his rain-soaked oilskin duster.? He quietly finds a booth in the corner by the front picture window.? He pulls off the heavy overcoat and his wide brimmed hat, setting them on the back of the bench.? He wipes the rain from his face with a hankerchief pulled from a hidden pocket inside his vest.? Quietly sitting down, he stares out into the cold, rainy night, with thoughts that are only his.

The waitress, ever so watchful, makes her way over to his booth and ask, ?Can I get you some coffee???

?Yes, please.? Just black ?and thank you?, he replies, appreciatively.

She returns a few moments later and gently sets a full cup of black coffee on the table.?

?Anything else??

?No.? Thank you.? Just the coffee will be fine??

She leaves this mysterious person and returns to her station to make more coffee.? She suspects it will be a long night.?

He returns to his distant stare out the window, sipping the hot coffee, feeling its warmth?and the comfort of this small caf? in the middle of a rainy night.

Conversation moves from table to table with the curiosity of anyone knowing who this man may be?
« Last Edit: January 30, 2006, 09:59:03 PM by Craig »
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Bree

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #38 on: January 29, 2006, 02:16:12 PM »

Wow, do we ever have some great writers on this one.
Honored, and very interested what will be here next.

To all of you, you make my day..............................
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Ron L.

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #39 on: January 30, 2006, 09:01:06 PM »

The mournful sound of the train whistle echoed off the walls of Paradise Found Canyon. That usually meant he was dropping by and in about 10 minutes, he walked through the door, went over to the cigarette machine, and put a quarter in for a pack of Camels.

We always wondered where he got the quarters.

This time, he sat across the booth from me and the first thing he said was:

"You OK?"

He always seemed to know. I took a deep breath and said:

"Yeah, for the most part. Sometimes I get too hung up in the future".

"Well, pal, it ain't what it used to be", he replied than broke into his unique laughter. "Believe me, now I really know".

"Can you talk about it?"

His eyes seemed to be looking far away before he answered.

"Ya know, I used to have what I called my dream songs. They would just come to me when i was asleep. It's a little like that."

"Is it a place?"

"It can be anything you want it to be just like this is right now. It's really very simple when you get here. I used to say all is as it should be and that's more the truth than I could have ever imagined".

"How important is music?"

I can remember his smile filling a room before but this time it filled me with a warmth that I couldn't even begin to describe.

"Let me tell you this much. It's the  thing on Earth that comes closest to what it's like".

"All music?"

"Hell, No."

"Well, yours can still make me cry when I need it."

"Yeah, I know", he said as he took the last drag from what was just barely an ember. "That's how I hear you".
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Craig

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #40 on: February 01, 2006, 06:18:46 AM »

...as he sits, his gaze turns towards the group of people.  The poet, taken aback and startled for just a moment, rises from his chair and walks over towards the booth, saying nothing as he leaves the table. 

A silence falls on the cafe like a smothering cloud...all eyes intent to see what happens next.

The poet takes a seat in the booth across from the stranger...

"Who is that?"  Is the predominant question among the patrons.

The din of scattered talk picks up once again.  The waitress is busy once again behind the counter.
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Larisa

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #41 on: February 01, 2006, 01:32:39 PM »

Did I ever tell you that we had Roger Miller and Jerry Reed
pop in here last week when the Houston kid was hanging out?
It was quiet before they came, but once the three of them got to
trading stories, the noise level brought people from all over town
around to the cafe just to see what was going on. The guitars soon
came out, and the tunes began. Nobody slept much that night.
You ever notice when the Houston kid laughs that it sounds like
he's swallowed a whole bellyful of keys?
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Craig

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #42 on: February 02, 2006, 10:49:38 PM »

?Can I warm your coffee??

?Yes please,? replies the stranger.? ?And would you bring a cup for my friend as well??
The waitress nods and leaves to get more coffee.

As she returns to her station, a young man sitting at the counter ask the waitress,? ?Who is that fellow in the corner booth??

?I have no idea but it appears they have been friends for a long time.? They sure aren?t talking very loud either, almost in whispers,? she says as she fills a cup and heads back over to the booth.

She returns to the small booth and says nothing as she gently sets a fresh cup of coffee on the table for the poet and then fills the stranger?s cup.? She meanders back through the caf?, checking on the others and filling cups with fresh coffee as she goes.

The stranger reaches into his vest pocket and brings out a silver flask, pulls the stopper and pours whiskey in to first his friend?s cup, then his own.? He leaves the flask sitting on the table as they both sip their spiked cups.

?You must be wondering what brought me here tonight.? It is absolutely dreadful outside.? On nights like these, I find this small comfortable cafe to be safe harbor? peace in the midst of the storm, as you will.? I can always find a friend or two here.? I know you understand??

The conversation continued between the two old friends, the poet listening intently and hanging on every word his friend had to impart.? At one point, the poet slammed the table top with the palm of his hand and exclaimed, ?I KNEW IT!? I KNEW IT!? , as he laughed out loud.?

This outburst startled everyone there and silenced the small caf? for just a moment in time.? Talking in such low tones, other than this one time, no one could understand what either one of them were saying or speaking of?this was only one of many times tonight that there would be a hush over the small group that had gathered.

« Last Edit: February 02, 2006, 10:58:58 PM by Craig »
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Jm

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #43 on: February 03, 2006, 12:02:21 AM »

Spoonful is very much about the living.
Some of our visitors come from another dimension,
still, they are alive and well, and always welcome.

A few days ago, as I sat on the bandstand steps in
the  square, I looked up just in time to see her a
block away. I wasn?t sure at first, then I saw the smile
and short cropped hair. Just as I remembered her.
I jumped to my feet and met up with her in front of
the theater.
?Dana Delbosco as I live and breathe? the joy spilling over
as we embraced.
?I was just thinking of you? I said?. ?always do on the
21st ??, my words catching in my throat as I stop short.
?The day I died?? she said, and laughed.
?You should know better than that by now.?

?It?s hard to comprehend, I know, but there is no sorrow. The
hardest part was leaving Jack?. Jack, Dana?s boy, was only
5 when she passed. I hesitated to admit I hadn?t kept
up with him. ?He doesn?t need you yet?, she said.
?You?ll be there when he does? you always were for me?.
 
We made our way to a park bench, bought a couple of Chicago
dogs from the street vendor, and sat down for a long visit.

?How do you spend your time?? I ask, knowing the reference
to time must surely sound childish. ?I?m still an agent? she said.
?We all do the things we loved here. I?ve been representing
John Denver again, among others? Said to tell you hello,
and he?s pleased to see you finally playing a wooden
guitar.?? and we laughed.

?Doing a bit of acting again, as well.? ?Just finished
a production of ?The Glass Menagerie?? I was ?Laura?. Believe
it or not, Kate Hepburn read ?Amanda? with us in rehearsal.
What a grand spirit she is.?

An hour passed like 5 minutes when, out of the corner of my ear,
I heard a distant unfamiliar rumble.

Bud and I are the only ones who use the little grass runway
on the edge of town. His Piper Cub has a four cylinder
Continental engine. I?d know it anywhere.

This was different?
?Sounds like a radial?? Dana said with a grin, reading my thoughts.
I stopped my scan of the sky long enough to see the sparkle
in her eye. ?It?s my ride? walk me to the airfield. I have a
surprise for you?

We talked our way down Main street, past the last of the
buildings, and the quarter mile to the town limit. I could see
the bi-plane turning final to land. There?s a slight crosswind,
but whoever was behind the yoke slipped her in like a
freight riding a rail. As we approached the field, the cherry
red Staggerwing taxied off the runway and came
to a stop by the hanger 20 feet from us.

A slight figure stepped from the cabin, starched collar, waxed
mustache. He extended his hand as he approached.
 
?Afternoon Jonmark. Name?s Orville. Dana here has told me all
about you. Hear you?ve always had a thing for Beech 17?s. Go
ahead, take her around the patch a few times.?

?Keep her at 60 on final. She?s a tail-dragger so mind the rudder 
?till the prop stops spinnin?.?


« Last Edit: February 03, 2006, 12:24:15 AM by Jm »
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Ron L.

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Re: The Spoonful Caf
« Reply #44 on: February 03, 2006, 12:37:24 AM »

Brilliant.
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