Friday, July 28, 2006
Recycle Ranch
I was cleaning Molly and Tony’s house and yard when Charlie called to ask about our meeting time that afternoon to sing at a nursing home. He mentioned that he was signing up for a movie that afternoon at an office not far from our scheduled gig, so I figured I might as well get my name in the pot also. We had worked as extras in other movies.
Upon arrival at the movie producer’s office, I found a questionnaire on the table and filled out the necessary info. A place at the bottom of the page asked for special skills, or some such. I wrote “singing and rinky-tink piano.”
The director lady emerged, asked if I had picked up a script to read, and I said, “No, I’m just here for an extra’s part.”
“You’ll read for us anyway, won’t you?” she asks sweetly.
When the director called me into his office, he asked about the singing and piano, wanted me to sing a few bars of a song instead of reading. I chose one of my own, “Mama Never Said I Love You”, and he seemed excited. At this time I knew nothing about the movie in question.
When I got home that afternoon, I went to the nmfilm web page and found that this project was for a contest to see who could make the best short movie in only 48 hours. The length was to be between four and seven minutes.
On Friday night, the crew got all the info that would be required and started writing the script. Saturday morning early, filming began at a motel in downtown Albuquerque, and later I met them at a hostel in the mountains where most of the story would take place, only a few miles from my home. The finished product had to be turned in by Sunday night.
One of the highlights of my day was sharing my lunch with a beautiful begging donkey, one of several wandering around the premises. A couple of them were in the movie.
The name of the movie is Recycle Ranch, a place where abused women are taken and helped to start a new life. My role is Joy Brookes, a famous bluegrass gospel singer who has undergone abuse and been rehabilitated. I was surprised how much of a story could be told in just a few minutes.
At the screening on Tuesday night, our film seemed to be one of only a few that actually made sense and had the least amount of profanity. My singing sounded pitiful, as we had done the vocal and piano separately, and evidently the sound man knew nothing about music. He just threw them together willy-nilly, regardless of timing, and everything sounded off key. But otherwise, it’s a good movie. The only viewers will be film industry moguls, nothing for the public.
The final tally is in. One of the films screened Monday night was the winner, one we didn't get to see. Better luck next time, crew!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
Upon arrival at the movie producer’s office, I found a questionnaire on the table and filled out the necessary info. A place at the bottom of the page asked for special skills, or some such. I wrote “singing and rinky-tink piano.”
The director lady emerged, asked if I had picked up a script to read, and I said, “No, I’m just here for an extra’s part.”
“You’ll read for us anyway, won’t you?” she asks sweetly.
When the director called me into his office, he asked about the singing and piano, wanted me to sing a few bars of a song instead of reading. I chose one of my own, “Mama Never Said I Love You”, and he seemed excited. At this time I knew nothing about the movie in question.
When I got home that afternoon, I went to the nmfilm web page and found that this project was for a contest to see who could make the best short movie in only 48 hours. The length was to be between four and seven minutes.
On Friday night, the crew got all the info that would be required and started writing the script. Saturday morning early, filming began at a motel in downtown Albuquerque, and later I met them at a hostel in the mountains where most of the story would take place, only a few miles from my home. The finished product had to be turned in by Sunday night.
One of the highlights of my day was sharing my lunch with a beautiful begging donkey, one of several wandering around the premises. A couple of them were in the movie.
The name of the movie is Recycle Ranch, a place where abused women are taken and helped to start a new life. My role is Joy Brookes, a famous bluegrass gospel singer who has undergone abuse and been rehabilitated. I was surprised how much of a story could be told in just a few minutes.
At the screening on Tuesday night, our film seemed to be one of only a few that actually made sense and had the least amount of profanity. My singing sounded pitiful, as we had done the vocal and piano separately, and evidently the sound man knew nothing about music. He just threw them together willy-nilly, regardless of timing, and everything sounded off key. But otherwise, it’s a good movie. The only viewers will be film industry moguls, nothing for the public.
The final tally is in. One of the films screened Monday night was the winner, one we didn't get to see. Better luck next time, crew!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
The Good Wife's Guide
You gals think you have it tough? Take a gander at the following article that appeared in Housekeeping Monthly on May 13, 1955, when I was a young bride. From the spelling, I suppose it was written in England. (by a man?)
The Good Wife's Guide
- Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.
-Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.
-Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.
-Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.
-Gather up school books, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dust cloth over the tables.
-Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.
-Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.
-Be happy to see him.
-Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.
-Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first. Remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.
-Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.
-Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.
-Don't greet him with complaints and problems.
-Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.
-Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink waiting for him.
-Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
-Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
-A good wife always knows her place.
* * *
So how does that grab you?
My husband, a heavy equipment operator, came home at night exhausted and covered with several layers of dirt. I gladly catered to his every whim, took care of the five kids, house, yard, garden, cow and, sometimes, the whole farm.
When the last child was grown and gone off to the navy, I accompanied Hubby to the construction site and eventually became a heavy equipment operator myself. When I saw how easy it was, compared to raising kids, dreams of those frustrating early days began to torture me each night.
That's not to say that Harry's job was easy. He went in a run, even on a machine, doing as much work as three ordinary guys, under constant tension. He pushed himself unmercifully, for reasons known only to him. As you can imagine, he was never fired from a job, and was considered the very best in his profession.
But even he knew that a woman's job was something he could never handle. He did not expect unquestioning obedience from a subservient female. We were loving partners in marriage,farming, every undertaking, and he was always full of praise and respect for anything I did.
Working with him was a great experience for me, seeing what an artist he was with his motor grader, and the respect he earned from all the guys he was associated with. One man in Abilene stood watching him one day and commented, "He makes it look too easy."
I'm glad we were too poor to buy guilt trip magazines such as the above.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
The Good Wife's Guide
- Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.
-Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.
-Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.
-Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.
-Gather up school books, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dust cloth over the tables.
-Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.
-Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.
-Be happy to see him.
-Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.
-Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first. Remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.
-Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.
-Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.
-Don't greet him with complaints and problems.
-Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.
-Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink waiting for him.
-Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
-Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
-A good wife always knows her place.
* * *
So how does that grab you?
My husband, a heavy equipment operator, came home at night exhausted and covered with several layers of dirt. I gladly catered to his every whim, took care of the five kids, house, yard, garden, cow and, sometimes, the whole farm.
When the last child was grown and gone off to the navy, I accompanied Hubby to the construction site and eventually became a heavy equipment operator myself. When I saw how easy it was, compared to raising kids, dreams of those frustrating early days began to torture me each night.
That's not to say that Harry's job was easy. He went in a run, even on a machine, doing as much work as three ordinary guys, under constant tension. He pushed himself unmercifully, for reasons known only to him. As you can imagine, he was never fired from a job, and was considered the very best in his profession.
But even he knew that a woman's job was something he could never handle. He did not expect unquestioning obedience from a subservient female. We were loving partners in marriage,farming, every undertaking, and he was always full of praise and respect for anything I did.
Working with him was a great experience for me, seeing what an artist he was with his motor grader, and the respect he earned from all the guys he was associated with. One man in Abilene stood watching him one day and commented, "He makes it look too easy."
I'm glad we were too poor to buy guilt trip magazines such as the above.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Good News and Bad
Good News and Bad
1946
"Look yonder at that dark old cloud.
It must be quite a storm!"
From Daddy such a statement
was some cause for alarm.
We loaded in the Buick,
drove up to Cogdills' place
where the cellar welcomed all the crew,
a cozy, friendly place.
We sat on buckets and old tires
in shadowed lantern light,
played "I Spy", sang and had a ball
as sundown led to night.
The wind grew fierce, rain spattered down
but no tornado came,
and the fear I had of twisters
has never been the same.
Back home we found a sodden house,
the tin roof full of leaks.
The four-inch rain had washed the precious
topsoil down the creeks.
But count your blessings where you can,
or count yourself a fool.
Our new dam stopped the water
and made a swimming pool!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
1946
"Look yonder at that dark old cloud.
It must be quite a storm!"
From Daddy such a statement
was some cause for alarm.
We loaded in the Buick,
drove up to Cogdills' place
where the cellar welcomed all the crew,
a cozy, friendly place.
We sat on buckets and old tires
in shadowed lantern light,
played "I Spy", sang and had a ball
as sundown led to night.
The wind grew fierce, rain spattered down
but no tornado came,
and the fear I had of twisters
has never been the same.
Back home we found a sodden house,
the tin roof full of leaks.
The four-inch rain had washed the precious
topsoil down the creeks.
But count your blessings where you can,
or count yourself a fool.
Our new dam stopped the water
and made a swimming pool!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Sweet Dreams
Sweet Dreams
1946
The kerosene barrel lies down on its side
with a spigot in front that opens up wide
for filling the jug, so heavy to tote
when a kid's in a hurry and wearing no coat.
(And that's not all of the heartbreaking news.
She's also not wearing her stockings and shoes.)
The upside-down tank sits now on its tip
with the spring-loaded lid letting kerosene drip
to keep the fire burning all day into night,
its red glowing sides a beautiful sight.
We sit in a circle on old kitchen chairs,
so glad to be safe from the freezing night air.
But then comes your bedtime, where rooms have no heat,
and it takes a brave cowpoke to face icy sheets.
Wad up in a ball, warming one tiny space,
your chattering teeth nearly breaking your face.
Then stretch out by inches to lengthen the nest.
Two sisters for comfort encourage sweet rest.
The old cotton quilts are heavy as lead,
which sure make it hard to turn over in bed.
But now warm and cozy, you dream of a day
when comfort is brought by the new REA,
and wondrous inventions will heat up the home
or even the bed. Young dreamer, dream on!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
1946
The kerosene barrel lies down on its side
with a spigot in front that opens up wide
for filling the jug, so heavy to tote
when a kid's in a hurry and wearing no coat.
(And that's not all of the heartbreaking news.
She's also not wearing her stockings and shoes.)
The upside-down tank sits now on its tip
with the spring-loaded lid letting kerosene drip
to keep the fire burning all day into night,
its red glowing sides a beautiful sight.
We sit in a circle on old kitchen chairs,
so glad to be safe from the freezing night air.
But then comes your bedtime, where rooms have no heat,
and it takes a brave cowpoke to face icy sheets.
Wad up in a ball, warming one tiny space,
your chattering teeth nearly breaking your face.
Then stretch out by inches to lengthen the nest.
Two sisters for comfort encourage sweet rest.
The old cotton quilts are heavy as lead,
which sure make it hard to turn over in bed.
But now warm and cozy, you dream of a day
when comfort is brought by the new REA,
and wondrous inventions will heat up the home
or even the bed. Young dreamer, dream on!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
Friday, July 07, 2006
Silly Sallie
Silly Sallie
"She's so cute!" the kids often said, watching Sallie struggle with her uncooperative spoon or push her glass around on the tray as though it might be a toy car. She tossed her shining curls and rolled her big brown eyes expressively to emphasize whatever she was trying to say in her own brand of childish gibberish, captivating one and all. Everything was funny to her, and her lilting laughter brightened all our lives when she became a member of our household. Lovingly dubbed "Silly Sallie" by our "adopted" teenage daughter, Debbie, she was our entertainer at mealtimes, and her impish grin said she enjoyed being the center of attention.
Sallie was my 84-year-old mother, a victim of Alzheimer's disease. As her brain deteriorated, her memory slipped slowly back toward childhood. Truly growing younger all the time, Sallie seemed to be about a year old mentally, gradually forgetting all the skills she ever knew; speech, walking, feeding herself. Finishing a meal without help was a rare accomplishment for her, and more often than not, she fed herself only bread or finger foods. A spoon was only a toy for playing in her glass of iced tea. Feeding her could have been compared to jumping rope, timing each bite at just the right moment to catch her mouth open. Treated as a game, it was relatively easy. Otherwise, impossible.
When her speech first started to go, a sentence begun quite normally would disintegrate into a babble of strange sounds, which was embarrassing and frustrating for the short time that she was able to recognize the absence of recall. But this type of incident soon became the norm, and I teased her about speaking in her personal "unknown tongue." Thank goodness, her beautiful sense of humor remained intact for the duration.
Three years before, she could hold a reasonably understandable conversation. Now a combination of words that made sense were very rare, a "yes" or "no" sometimes questionable. More and more now her eyes bespoke an awareness of another time and place of existence that we could not share, where there was no need for spoken words.
Sallie required lifting from bed to wheelchair, now that she had forgotten how to stand. When I tried to help her to her feet, she simply picked them up like a child being lifted into her mother's arms. Unable to understand or follow directions, she was much like an infant in every way except that she seldom cried. She was very easy to care for, easy to please, relatively free from pain. Although she might not have remembered who I was, she always had a big smile for me, and that mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
When there was very little left to forget, I sometimes wondered - What next? Will she forget how to chew and swallow? move her limbs? breathe? But with whatever came, there was always a way to cope. Nature left to itself is often miraculously simple. After trying the few aids offered by medical science, we were inclined to trust even more in the Maker of the complex combination of atoms called the human body, and entrusted to him this one who had been so much to so many for so long.
On the morning of June 6, 1980, Sallie forgot to wake up.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
