Hello everyone, everywhere,
Hey, this week has been a resting week because we’re not in rehearsals until a week from today. So I did something incredible for myself instead: I bought a footstool for my chair. Beside this chair I have my beautiful lamp and my view outside is just trees. I can hear cars but I don’t see them. And now I have my footstool, and the magic of it is…it’s collapsible! When you want to put it away you take the top off, you fold up the rest, you put it back in the original box and you’re done.
Michelle’s on the mend and so is Dean. That’s a good thing. The weather has turned ugly, but it’s winter. What are you going to do?
Tonight is the final part of my three-part story about Rossi Brown Copeland, a little imp of a fellow in a fantasy world. All of my work can be seen by scrolling down the blog. You can see the first two parts of the story as well as all of my previous stories.
I realize that sometimes people are in a hurry. They click on my blog and sometimes they don’t get it. At times I write in the abstract so in the future I’ll try to help the story along. That will be a new project for sure.
And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts…if only for a moment…and rest.
THE NIGHT THE LAST LIGHTS WENT OUT IN JIMTOWN
Mr. Hummel owns the bakery. Rossi Brown loves the cookies and bread. Last year he said he’d help Mr. Hummel make a batch of cookies. You think making cookies is easy? Four on the shelf, six in his pocket–it was hard to keep up. Rossi told Mr. Hummel to slow down because the cookies in his pocket were breaking. So ended his career as Rossi Brown Copeland, Master Baker.
Now Rossi sees old Jack up on the ladder fixing another gas lamp. Old Jack has one wooden leg. Last year it was bugging him, so Rossi said, “Old Jack, I’ll keep an eye on that leg of yours as if it were my own.”
Old Jack looked at Rossi Brown, shook his head slowly and said, “You’ll be taking good care of it.”
Rossi looked at him and said, “Don’t worry.”
Old Jack went up the ladder and Rossi drifted off, holding Jack’s wooden leg. Then he saw the freight wagon loading up for its last trip of the year to who knows where. As it happens, Rossi put the leg down on the wagon to pet the horses goodbye.
Rossi Brown was glad to see old Jack now had his leg back. He yelled up the ladder, “I’m Rossi Brown Copeland. Remember me?” It’s good it was windy because I don’t think Jack was saying hello. “Too bad,” Rossi thinks. “I could have been the greatest gas lamp-fixer ever. Rossi Brown Copeland, you’re the best.” Rossi thinks it over and decides that it’s too dirty a job for him. So ends a great career.
Alas, the lamps are being extinguished one by one, until the last lamp is left. Someone yells, “Let Rossi Brown turn it out.” Rossi is amazed and delighted. To him, finally, they see Rossi Brown Copeland as the best gas light putter-outer in the world.
“Just turn it out Rossi,” someone in the crowd yells. So he does and at that second they all go still. The season is over.
(NEVER EVER GIVE UP).