Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast #73: Fatal Attraction

Here's another COVID free ZOOM edition of the Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast, a lively discussion of the movies that sometimes devolves into a group therapy session.

In this episode, Podmaster Ralph brings Fatal Attraction to the table. The film has been scaring husbands into fidelity since 1987, but does it still hold up? And, by the way, who is really the villain?  Michael Douglas or Glenn Close? Listen and find out.

Here's the trailer for the film:

      

Here's the podcast on YouTube:

 

Our Podcast is now available for download on iTunes: Yippee Ki Yay Mother Podcast
Subscribe to our YouTube page: Yippee Ki Yay Mother Podcast
Check out our webpage: Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast

Like us on Facebook: Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast.
Follow us on Twitter: YKYPodcast
Check out Wojo's webpage: Wojo's World
And follow her on Twitter: @TheMicheleWojo

Check out our other episodes here:


My novel Chapel Street is now available! You can currently buy the Kindle and paperback at Amazon and the Nook, paperback and hardcover at Barnes & Noble.


Learn more about the book, click Here.

Watch the book trailer:

  

Listen to me read some chapters here:

Tuesday, June 29, 2021

Grave Tale #19: Gertrude Parnaby

I am an avid genealogist. The past is very important to me. I spend a lot of time in cemeteries photographing tombstones to upload on the website FindAGrave.

I enjoy recognizing long dead people by putting memorials to them online. However, every once and a while something grabs me about a specific grave. It could be the name, or the dates or a ceramic photo. In those cases, I feel compelled to dig a little deeper. That's what this series of blogs is about: The tales behind those graves. Some of my subjects will be heroes. Some will be villains. Some will be victims. And some will linger in between, like most of us. However, don't be surprised if the tales are inherently tragic. These are grave tales. They all end in death.

Saint Matthew's Cemetery is one of a cluster of adjacent cemeteries lining O'Donnell Street in East Baltimore. It is a narrow strip of land stretched between O'Donnell Street and Interstate 95. Some of the cemeteries in the area have fallen into shameful disrepair. While Saint Matthew's is hardly pristine, it is being actively maintained. There are some overturned monuments, but the grass remains cut. That's better than some cemeteries I've visited.

I traveled down to O'Donnell Street to visit another cemetery, but my wife Debbie suggested we take a look at Saint Matthew's. I had driven past it many times, but I never ventured inside. But who was I to say no to my lovely wife? I'm glad I didn't. We were only in the cemetery for a few minutes before Debbie found the Parnaby monument. It marked the graves of two parents, Bert and Margaret Parnaby, and two of their daughters, Ethel and Margaret. They all died in 1939. That alone caught my attention, but the final inscription told me I had another grave tale. It read: Mother Died Trying To Save Her Children.

I rushed home to check out the newspapers to find a truly terrible tragedy, ennobled by an act of maternal heroism. Here is the story of Gertrude Parnaby and her family:

The Evening Sun (Baltimore, Maryland), 16 August 1939, Wednesday:


BLAZE TRAPS SIX IN
HOME; TWO ARE SAVED
-----
Mother Fatally Burned In Effort
To Rescue Two Girls
-----
Curley St. Fire Traced To
Summer Kitchen in Back Yard
-----

     Smoke and flames from a fire roaring up a stairway killed four members of a family of six today in a small two-story home at 915 South Curley street.
     A father and two of his young daughters died in the blazing building. The mother of the girls died later in a hospital from burns inflicted when she dashed back into the flames in a hopeless attempt to save the girls, already dead.

Victims Listed

      The Dead:
     Bert Parnaby, 48 years old, a shipfitter, found dead from burns in a second-floor bedroom.
     Mrs. Gertrude Parnaby, 45 years old, died at the City Hospital eight hours after firemen carried her down a ladder following her flight into the flames in search of her daughters.
     Ethel Parnaby, 16 years old, smothered in bed.
     Margaret Parnaby, 8 years old, asphyxiated in bed beside her sister.
     Only two of the family were saved. They are Gertrude, 10 years old, who owes her life to the fact that, unlike the others, she slept in a first-floor room, and her 19-year-old brother, Charles, who dropped from a window at the rear of the house and escaped with burns on one hand.

Traced To Summer Kitchen

     Firemen traced the outbreak to a small frame building attached to the brick dwelling and used as a hot weather kitchen.
     Less than half an hour after it was discovered, the blaze was brought under control by firemen, but in that time everyone who remained in the house was dead or dying. Investigators said the fire spread from the backyard kitchen to the house and, with the stairway to the second floor as a flue, wrecked the lower half of the building. There were no signs of fire in the bedroom at the front of the second floor where the two girls died, overcome by smoke.

Fire Discovered By Neighbor

     The fire was discovered at 1 A.M. by Miss Harriet Morgan, who was walking to her home around the corner at 2915 Hudson street. Miss Morgan stopped to talk to a neighbor sitting on the steps of a house near the Parnaby residence and, while standing there, smelled smoke.
     Looking around, she saw wisps of smoke curling from the doors and windows of the Parnaby home, a house into which that family moved only a short time ago from a residence three blocks away on Potomac street.
     Miss Morgan ran to the house and banged on the door, shouting "fire" at the top of her voice.

Gertrude Rescued

     The door was opened by 10-year-old Gertrude, who was pulled out into the street by Miss Morgan. The little girl wanted to go back, but Miss Morgan, seeing the flames inside, held her. She turned Gertrude over to a neighbor aroused by the shouts and ran to a firehouse at Linwood avenue and O'Donnell street.
     At the same time, Norman E. Horstman was awakened in his home at 920 South Potomac street and looked out a rear window. Across an alley, he saw flames rising from the Parnaby house. He ran to Potomac and Dillon streets and turned in an alarm.
     Parnaby and his son Charles shared a rear bedroom on the second floor. Mrs. Parnaby slept in a room between this and the bedroom at the front occupied by the two girls. Mrs. Parnaby was roused by the calls from the street and made her way through the flames to the outside. She was burned, but not badly enough to disable her.

Thought Mother Was Safe

     In the rear bedroom, Charles was awakened by the smell of smoke. His first thought was for his mother's safety. The smoke was so thick he could not see, but he crawled to her bedroom and found her bed empty. He felt around the floor and, satisfied Mrs. Parnaby had escaped, went back to the bedroom where he had left his father. Parnaby had also weakened and had started down the stairs.
     Charles dropped from a window to the roof of the back-yard kitchen. He and a neighbor, James Buckins, of 917 South Curley street, attached a garden hose and sought to drown the fire in the back of the house.
     Mrs. Parnaby was screaming "Save my children" when she suddenly broke away from a group in the street and ran into the burning building. When she was next seen she was at an upper window, her clothing in flames, begging for someone to save the children. She had gone through the wall of flames in the stairway, which had driven back her husband in his attempt to escape.
     Firemen sent up a ladder upon their arrival. Among those brought out by the noise was Albert Uriahs, 913 South Curley street, a fireman off duty. Because he was familiar with the floor plan of the house, he climbed up the ladder first, and it was he who brought down Mrs. Parnaby. She was sent to City Hospitals, but was so severely shocked by witnessing the deaths of the others in her family that physicians said they were unable to administer the usual treatment for burns.
     She died at 9:30 A.M.
     When firemen entered the building they found the girls dead in bed and Parnaby burned to death on the floor of his bedroom. They said it was apparent the man had been driven back in an attempt to get down the stairway.

What a terrible tragedy! Four dead in a late night house fire, including two children. Whenever I see a tombstone with multiple deaths on the same day during that time period, my first thought is usually that it was a house fire. The Parnabys, however, were the first victims of a house fire I found on my journey through Baltimore's cemeteries. 

The Evening Sun did an excellent job recounting the story. You really get a strong feeling for the sequence of events and the emotions of the people involved. However, it raised questions in my mind. I know I am sailing in dangerous waters to question the actions of people caught in a terrifying crisis, but I found some things odd.

I am not doubting the courage or bravery of the mother Gertrude, who literally ran through a wall of flames and sacrificed her own life in an attempt to rescue her daughters. However, I have been in a small South Curley street rowhouse myself. I know the layout. If Gertrude was in the middle, second-floor bedroom, she would have had to run past the bedroom door of her two daughters to get downstairs. I can't help but wonder why she didn't grab her children before she left the house the first time.

Additionally, Gertrude must have fled the house initially without raising any alarm to either her son Charles or her husband Bert. When Charles woke up, he had no idea his mother was gone. His first instinct was to crawl into her bedroom and check her bed and floor, obviously assuming she was still there. Once he realized she wasn't in her room, he returned to his bedroom in the back of the house and jumped out of the window to safety. Interestingly, according to the story, after attempting to rescue his mother, Charles made no attempt to rescue his two sisters in the front bedroom. Perhaps the reason why would have been obvious to anyone there. Perhaps a wall of flames in front of their bedroom door made rescue appear impossible. However, the girls were not burned. They were killed by the smoke.

That said, Charles was a hero too. His first thought upon waking was to rescue his mother, and, when he got out, he put aside any concern about his own injuries to help battle the fire. Bravo.

Even the daughter Gertrude sought to re-enter the house.  This was a heroic family.

Of course, the answer to my questions about their decisions is clear. The Parnaby family awoke to find their house filled with fire and smoke. That automatically leads to panic and confusion. Plus, none of them could have been thinking right. According to the fire department, the two girls in the front room were probably already dead from smoke inhalation. The judgment of those who woke up was probably adversely affected by carbon monoxide poisoning. Had Harriet Morgan not raised the alarm when she did, the entire family probably would have died in their sleep within minutes.

That any of them survived is a miracle, and the actions of Gertrude and her son Charles is a testament to their courage and love.

The story continues:

The Baltimore Sun (Baltimore, Maryland), 18 August 1939, Friday:


FAMILY'S 4 DEAD
IN FIRE ARE BURIED
-----
500 Gather Outside Chapel.
Youth Who Survived Blaze
Attends Funeral.
-----

     Funeral services for the four members of the Parnaby family who were either burned or suffocated in a fire at their home at 915 South Curley street Wednesday were held today at an undertaking establishment at Eastern avenue and Wolfe street.
     About 500 neighbors and friends of the fire victims, in addition to those who were accomodated in the chapel, crowded the intersection during the rites and four patrolmen and a sergeant from the Eastern police station under command of Lieut. Edward Shamberg, were assigned to the scene to keep traffic moving.

Survivor Attends Funeral

     The four members of the family for whom the services were held were Bert Parnaby, 48, a shipfitter; his wife Mrs. Gertrude Parnaby, and their daughters, Ethel, 16, and Margaret 8.
     A son, Charles, 19, who escaped from the fire by dropping from a window, was the only member of the immediate family who attended the funeral. His sister, Gertrude, 10, who was dragged from the burning house by a neighbor who discovered the fire, had been sent to Washington to stay with relatives.

Other Relatives Present

     Several other relatives accompanied the surviving son to the funeral services, which were conducted by the Rev. Charles A. Hensel, pastor emeritus of the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer, at Potomac and Dillon streets.
     Another 150 persons, in addition to those who gathered in or near the funeral home, awaited the funeral procession at the St. Matthai Cemetery, in the 5700 block of O'Donnell street. A brief service was conducted there also by Rev. Mr. Hensel and burial was made in one plot.

It would good to see that their was family nearby to care for the survivors. It was also good to see the community rallying around them. But it would be another few days before the investigation into the cause of the fire would be complete:

The Baltimore Sun (Baltimore, Maryland), 24 August 1939, Thursday:


Tampering With Electric Fuses Blamed For Fire
-----
Firemen Find Those In Curley Street House
Stuffed With Tinfoil -- Four Lives Lost

     Tampering with the electric fuses was blamed yesterday for the fire at 915 South Curley street last Thursday that resulted in the death of a couple and two of their four children.
     George T. Evans, president of the Board of Fire Commissioners said the incendiary bureau had found that fuses in the home of Bert Parnaby had been stuffed with tinfoil after they were burned out so that the current would not be interrupted.
     "When the wires are overloaded they may get red hot and cause a fire and I believe that is what happened in this case," said Mr. Evans. The fuses, he declared, must have burned out because the wires were carrying too much current or because of defective insulation.

So much for the initial verdict of the fire starting in the outside summer kitchen. I am old enough to remember the old fuse boxes, and, if I am not mistaken, I remember us putting pennies in them temporarily when we didn't have a new fuse. We got off lucky.

The Parnaby fire was a terrible disaster. However, a week later, the world was engulfed in an even more cataclysmic tragedy. Germany would invade Poland on the first day of September initiating the Second World War in Europe. Charles Parnaby, our noble survivor, would get caught up in the maelstrom. He would fight in the Army. He would survive, marry and, according to genealogical records, have children. Still, his life would be cut short. He would die on 4 March 1953. He was only thirty-three-years-old.  

I don't know how he died. I could find no further newspaper stories about the children after the events surrounding the fire.  I did, however, find a sad story about the father Bert in the newspaper six years prior to the fire.  Here it is:


Boy, this was a family touched by tragedy. According to genealogical records, the daughter Gertrude married. In the online family trees I consulted, all information about her was marked as private. That means she is either still alive or had only recently died. I hope she managed to find some happiness.

Remember, there is a story behind every grave. You never know what you're missing when you walk past one...

Grave Tales:

My novel Chapel Street is now available! You can buy the Kindle and paperback at Amazon and the Nook, paperback and hardcover at Barnes & NobleChapel Street is the tale of a young man battling a demonic entity that has driven members of his family to suicide for generations. It was inspired by an actual haunting. 


Learn more about the book, click Here.

Listen to me read some chapters here:


Read about the true haunting that inspired the novel here:

The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 1, An Introduction
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 2, The House
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 3, This Is Us
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 4, Arrival
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 5, Methodology
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 6, Clara's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 7, Clara's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 8, My Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 9, My Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 10, My Tale, Pt. 3
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 11, Natalia's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 12, Natalia's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 13, John's Tale, Pt. 1 
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 14, John's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 15, Come Inside!
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 16, Marion's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 17, Marion's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 18, Jeanne's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 19, Jeanne's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 20, Lisa's Tale
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 21, Recap, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 22, Recap, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 23, Recap, Pt. 3

Let's stay in touch:

Follow me on Twitter: SeanPaulMurphy
Follow me on Facebook: Sean Paul Murphy
Follow me on Instagram: Sean Paul Murphy
Subscribe on YouTube: Sean Paul Murphy

Friday, June 25, 2021

Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast #72: Working Girl


Here's another COVID free ZOOM edition of the Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast, a lively discussion of the movies that sometimes devolves into a group therapy session.

Let's harken back to the days of big hair, cocaine* and good, old-fashioned misogyny as my lovely wife Debbie brings Mike Nichols' 1988 film Working Girl to the table. It's one of Debbie's favorite movies, and it stimulated a lively conversation. Plus, the casting! You'll catch a lot of young actors making one of their break through performances in this film. The casting director Juliet Taylor was a genius. At that time, who couldn't have imagined Kevin Spacey as a sexual harasser -- of women!  Check out the podcast. You'll have a good time.

Here's the trailer for the film:

    

Here's the podcast on YouTube:

         

*The cocaine was behind the scenes, not in the film.

Our Podcast is now available for download on iTunes: Yippee Ki Yay Mother Podcast
Subscribe to our YouTube page: Yippee Ki Yay Mother Podcast
Check out our webpage: Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast

Like us on Facebook: Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast.
Follow us on Twitter: YKYPodcast
Check out Wojo's webpage: Wojo's World
And follow her on Twitter: @TheMicheleWojo

Check out our other episodes here:


My novel Chapel Street is now available! You can currently buy the Kindle and paperback at Amazon and the Nook, paperback and hardcover at Barnes & Noble.


Learn more about the book, click Here.

Watch the book trailer:

  

Listen to me read some chapters here:

Friday, June 18, 2021

Grave Tales #18: Samuel Shlian


I am an avid genealogist. The past is very important to me. I spend a lot of time in cemeteries photographing tombstones to upload on the website FindAGrave.

I enjoy recognizing long dead people by putting memorials to them online. However, every once and a while something grabs me about a specific grave. It could be the name, or the dates or a ceramic photo. In those cases, I feel compelled to dig a little deeper. That's what this series of blogs is about: The tales behind those graves. Some of my subjects will be heroes. Some will be villains. Some will be victims. And some will linger in between, like most of us. However, don't be surprised if the tales are inherently tragic. These are grave tales. They all end in death.

I return to one of my favorite cemeteries, Ohr Knesseth Israel Anshe Sfard Cemetery, for the tale of Samuel Shlian. I was drawn to research him because of his youth at the time of his death. He was only eighteen-years-old. Of course, when you combine Samuel's age with his date of death, 17 May 1944, you would naturally assume that he was a casualty of World War II. But you'd be wrong. He, instead, was a possible victim of murder by elevator.  

The Evening Sun (Baltimore, Maryland), 18 May 1944, Thursday:



ELEVATOR DEATH ARREST MADE

     An elevator operator today was released on bail for a later hearing on possible manslaughter charges as the result of a fellow employe's death from injuries caused by an industrial plant elevator.
     Samuel Shlian, 18, of 2813 Keyworth avenue, shipping clerk at a knitwear factory in the 300 block of West Baltimore street, was struck on the head yesterday by a descending elevator operated by Lafayette Tracey, a Negro, 58, of 409 George street, it was reported to police.
     Police were told that Shlian looked into the elevator shaft as the freight elevator reached the same floor. He died later at University Hospital. Tracey was released by Western District Magistrate Preston A. Pairo on $1,000 bail on a charge of assaulting and striking Shlian with an elevator and causing the man's death.

Wow. That headline got me interested. Murder by elevator? I wanted to know more. Sadly, I could find no follow-up stories. There were no further references to Lafayette Tracey at all, and I searched for him under a couple of alternate spelling. (The newspapers at the time were rather careless with spelling.)

Obviously, the charge of manslaughter proved groundless or there would have been newspaper articles about a trial. When I first read this story, I suspected the charge might have been based on racism. After all, the newspaper was quick to point out Tracey's race, while not mentioning Shlian's race. However, I have softened my opinion after subsequently reading many other stories about accidental deaths during this period. It seemed that the police tended to arrest people involved in a death first, and then ask questions later, regardless of the race of the suspect. I can't say there was no racism involved in this case, but the actions of the police seemed consistent with their normal procedures at the time.

The Evening Sun (Baltimore, Maryland), 18 May 1944, Thursday:

SHLIAN--On May 17, 1944, SAMUEL, beloved son of the late Benjamin and Ida Shlian and the brother of Miss Rose Shlian, Mrs. Tillie Goldstein, Staff Sergeant Max Shlian and Corporal Louis Shlian, USA.
     Services at the Jack Lewis Home, 20110-02 Eutaw Place, on Friday morning, May 19, precisely at 11 o'clock. Interment in Anshe Sphard Congregation Cemetery, Hebrew Mount Carmel. [Kindly omit flowers.] In mourning at 2813 Keyworth avenue.

The death notice gives you an idea of the hole Samuel's death must have left in the family. His parents were already dead. His mother Ida had died in 1929, but his father Benjamin died recently in April of 1943. Samuel's two older brothers were fighting overseas so their survival was not guaranteed. In fact, a later story in the newspaper indicated that brother Max would be wounded in the shoulder soon afterwards on June 15th. I can imagine the heartache the two sisters must have felt knowing that all of their immediate male relatives were either dead or in harm's way. Fortunately, both of Samuel's brothers would survive the war.  But, sadly, Samuel would not be waiting for them when when they arrived home.

Samuel's story touched me because it reminded me of a tale from my own family.  My first cousin, 3 times removed, Vincent Klima, was allowed to stay home from World War I to look after his widowed mother and three sisters while his younger brother James went to war. Vincent would die on the home front as a result of the Spanish Influenza. Sadly,  James would die soon afterwards in France leaving the family without a male heir.

Read about my cousin Vincent here: My Family: Vincent Klima and the Spanish Influenza

Remember, there is a story behind every grave. You never know what you're missing when you walk past one...

Grave Tales:

My novel Chapel Street is now available! You can buy the Kindle and paperback at Amazon and the Nook, paperback and hardcover at Barnes & NobleChapel Street is the tale of a young man battling a demonic entity that has driven members of his family to suicide for generations. It was inspired by an actual haunting. 


Learn more about the book, click Here.

Listen to me read some chapters here:


Read about the true haunting that inspired the novel here:

The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 1, An Introduction
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 2, The House
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 3, This Is Us
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 4, Arrival
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 5, Methodology
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 6, Clara's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 7, Clara's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 8, My Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 9, My Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 10, My Tale, Pt. 3
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 11, Natalia's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 12, Natalia's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 13, John's Tale, Pt. 1 
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 14, John's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 15, Come Inside!
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 16, Marion's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 17, Marion's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 18, Jeanne's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 19, Jeanne's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 20, Lisa's Tale
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 21, Recap, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 22, Recap, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 23, Recap, Pt. 3

Let's stay in touch:

Follow me on Twitter: SeanPaulMurphy
Follow me on Facebook: Sean Paul Murphy
Follow me on Instagram: Sean Paul Murphy
Subscribe on YouTube: Sean Paul Murphy

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast #71: SNL Cast Films Round Robin

Here's another COVID free ZOOM edition of the Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast, a lively discussion of the movies that sometimes devolves into a group therapy session.

This week we return to our cinematic round robin format. The genre: Films starring Saturday Night Live cast members. Do you know how many films have been made by SNL cast members? Quite a few, trust me. We each brought one of our favorites the table to share with our fellow Mother Podcasters. A lot of fun choices.  Check it out.  

Here's the podcast on YouTube:

           

Our Podcast is now available for download on iTunes: Yippee Ki Yay Mother Podcast
Subscribe to our YouTube page: Yippee Ki Yay Mother Podcast
Check out our webpage: Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast

Like us on Facebook: Yippee-Ki-Yay Mother Podcast.
Follow us on Twitter: YKYPodcast
Check out Wojo's webpage: Wojo's World
And follow her on Twitter: @TheMicheleWojo

Check out our other episodes here:



My novel Chapel Street is now available! You can currently buy the Kindle and paperback at Amazon and the Nook, paperback and hardcover at Barnes & Noble.


Learn more about the book, click Here.

Watch the book trailer:

  

Listen to me read some chapters here:

Saturday, June 12, 2021

My Poetry, or, The Sorrow and the Self-Pity

My wife Deb and myself, and
Tina and her husband Todd.

Fellow TouchPoint author and poet Tina Shyver-Plank asked me if I ever wrote any poetry. With some reluctance, I answered yes. She asked if she could read it. I wanted to say no, but instead I foolishly said yes. I told her I would post some in a blog. That was months ago. Here it is. I didn't feel I could put it off any longer.

If you've been reading my blog with any regularity, you will notice that I often post items I wrote many years ago. I've posted college short stories and papers, and even an autobiography I wrote in the fourth grade.  That's how desperate I am for content! I've even been wanting to write a blog about the songs I wrote during my wannabe rock'n'roll days for a long time, but I have always been extremely hesitant to post any of my poems. Why? Not necessarily because they're bad, although they are. It's because they were not written for public consumption. They were private communications between myself and one of the women in my life. 

Rereading my poems, I noticed a common theme: Confusion. I know I wrote a few short, happy, Moon in June verses to my first girlfriend Kathy while she was away in college. Sadly, I do not remember any of them and I have no copies. They existed only in handwritten letters I sent to her, which have no doubt been relegated to landfill decades ago. Later in life, I only found myself inspired to write poetry when I was uncertain about the status of a relationship. When I was unable or unwilling to ask tough questions of myself or my would-be paramour, I would express myself in the more oblique form of poetry. For some reasons, I never feel inspired write poetry when I feel happy and secure. So if I haven't written a poem about you, take it as a compliment!

Yours truly with Kathy

While I do not have any of my happy Kathy poems, I recently found this long, yet incomplete post-breakup but still hopeful epic. I wrote it at Towson State, where I teach screenwriting now and then, in one of those little blue examination booklets in late May of 1984. Our final break would occur that June. I was in a state of full blown emotional and spiritual collapse at the time I wrote this poem. I would come very to taking my life within a week or two after this was written. (Read about that here: Chapter 15 - Quarter To Midnight)

I am only including a few stanzas. There's only so much forlorn hope and agonized self-pity and bad rhymes I can take.  Here it is, in my own handwriting:



My relationship with Kathy loomed large in my memoir The Promise, or the Pros and Cons of Talking with God.  Here is a trailer for the book:

    

Here I am reading the first chapter:

 

I wrote a large number of poems in the 1990s during my long on again/off again relationship with a certain farm girl, and mother of two, named Andi. 


Andi and yours truly

Our five year relationship was fraught with long valleys between periodic mountaintops. Most of my poems were written while the ground gave way on those downhill slopes. Here's a sampling:


DRIFTING 

An open heart 
like a picnic spread 
on a sea of grass 
scented by flowers 
a simple feast 
hoping to tempt 
a heart like mine 
somebody needing 
someone like me 
I was ready 
then 
were you 

drifting apart 
through a blinding mist 
obscuring what seemed 
within our power
reaching out 
hoping to find 
perchance to touch 
gentle fingertips 
reaching for me 
are they gone 
where 
are you 

two needy hearts 
seemed bound to beat 
in synchronicity 
awaiting their hour 
will it arrive 
tardy but true 
with a kiss
and ribbons to bind 
you and me
I don't know 
now
do you

drifting apart 
infrequent hellos 
more final goodbyes 
from isolated towers 
smiles upon seeing 
now simple nods 
acknowledging 
but not knowing 
failing to see 
is it over 
is nothing 
left 
of you

Trust me, I many more poems along those lines, but that's enough passive aggressive pouting for one sitting. If I were to write a sequel to my memoir, it would coalesce around my relationship with Andi.  Wanna hear me read the first chapter?

 

The next poem was written to a young woman named Cammy.  She was a long distance friend I also met on America Online during one of my extended breaks with Andi. Her kindness and compassion was a true godsend around the time of my sister Laurie's death. While there was some flirtation and definite temptation, the circumstances were never right for us to become involved. But I did wonder what if...

Cammy, in the red.

WHAT IF

what if
who's to say
where we both would stand today
what if
who's to know
where the two of us could go
and what the two of us could do
if we knew
what if

what if
who's to care
that fate's hand was so unfair
what if
who's to cry
that we should live and finally die
never tasting what we could give
failing to live
what if

what if
who's to chart
love's long journey through the heart
what if
who's to hear
the words I'd whisper in your ear
words of love I long to speak
of love I seek
what if

what if
my dear sweet Cammy
what if

Speaking of my late sister Laurie, after her unexpected suicide, someone volunteered me to give her eulogy at her funeral. A wrote a little poem as part of my eulogy.  Here it is:

Laura Lee Murphy Valenti


EULOGY

When a person thrists
one can dip a cup
into a bucket
and drink
and the thirst is satisfied
and the bucket doesn't care
for there is no hole
no void
what remains fills it

When a person hungers
for an absent love
in a broken heart
in vain
the hunger cannot be met
and the heart does care
for there is a hole
a void
no one else can fill

Here's a little tribute film I made for my sister.



I have not written a poem since I met and married my lovely wife Deborah. I guess it because I don't need the artifice of poetry when I can freely express my love in a more tangible manner.

I hope I never have to write a poem about Debbie!


Here we are getting married:

 

So there's a taste of my poetry. Thanks for indulging me.

It's kind of funny. When I started this blog, I strenuously avoided revealing anything too personal -- unless it was directly related to the movie business. Even then, I put the cheeriest possible face on everything. Now, my attitude seems to be the more personal, the better.

I like it.

Almost time to start posting my quarterly profit statements on my movies....


Other early writings:

If you want to put my poetry in the context of my life, check out my memoir The Promise, or the Pros and Cons of Talking with God, published by TouchPoint Press. It is my true story of first faith and first love and how the two became almost fatally intertwined.



Here are some sample chapters of The Promise:
Chapter 7 - Mission Accomplished
Chapter 15 - Quarter To Midnight

My novel Chapel Street is now available! You can buy the Kindle and paperback at Amazon and the Nook, paperback and hardcover at Barnes & NobleChapel Street is the tale of a young man battling a demonic entity that has driven members of his family to suicide for generations. It was inspired by an actual haunting. 


Learn more about the book, click Here.

Listen to me read some chapters here:


Read about the true haunting that inspired the novel here:

The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 1, An Introduction
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 2, The House
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 3, This Is Us
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 4, Arrival
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 5, Methodology
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 6, Clara's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 7, Clara's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 8, My Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 9, My Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 10, My Tale, Pt. 3
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 11, Natalia's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 12, Natalia's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 13, John's Tale, Pt. 1 
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 14, John's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 15, Come Inside!
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 16, Marion's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 17, Marion's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 18, Jeanne's Tale, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 19, Jeanne's Tale, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 20, Lisa's Tale
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 21, Recap, Pt. 1
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 22, Recap, Pt. 2
The Haunting of 21 St. Helens Avenue, Part 23, Recap, Pt. 3

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