Mookie wrote: Brian - I am sending you some more snow/rain/ugh kind of stuff. Sit tight - literally.
Brian - I am sending you some more snow/rain/ugh kind of stuff. Sit tight - literally.
Joanie and I aren't going anywhere until Christmas morning, when we'll head up to the nord' country for one night. Hopefully we'll get mainly snow out of this storm, which is much easier to deal with (that is if the snowblower still works- haven't fired it up yet!).
Brian (IA) http://blhanel.rrpicturearchives.net.
Good morning everyone. (Grabs big mug of coffee and a few doughnuts)
I can't wait for the Christmas Party!
I am out of here for awhile, so will wish the whole diner a very Merry Christmas and Happiest of New Years.
And I will do my annual nose count when I come back so you best all be in here for the tally.
Tom - good luck on surgery.
CW - keep them stuffed.
Bye all....
She who has no signature! cinscocom-tmw
.....I better say this again on this thread...{of course, in the coffee shop}....Best wishes to all who visit here. Merry Christmas....and my wish for everyone to have a good healthy, prosperous new year.
Quentin
.....And all the good wishes to you too Dale...Merry Christmas.
nanaimo73 wrote: You mean those are too long ?
You mean those are too long ?
God, I hope no one thinks that I was implying that (refer to sig below)!
BTW, Joanie found out a week or so ago that she's finally scheduled for a partial knee replacement on Jan. 21, so we're doing the Happy Dance (or in her case the Happy Limp?) around here.
Tom, Best Wishes on the surgery, hope the "Quacks" know what they're doing!!
Also hope it does help what "Ails Ya", and a very speedy recovery.
Ray, nice story, thanks for sharing that with us.
MERRY CHRISTMAS to ALL, especially to the ones that won't be back in until after
the Holidays!
Being Crazy,keeps you from going "INSANE" !! "The light at the end of the tunnel,has been turned off due to budget cuts" NOT AFRAID A Vet., and PROUD OF IT!!
Tom
COAST LINE FOREVER
It is better to dwell in the corner of a roof than to share a house with a contentious woman! (Solomon)
A contentious woman is like a constant dripping! (Solomon)
Good Friday morning, and MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!!!!
Ray, thanks for sharing that lovely story with us. That was a very good story.
Dale, it's very nice having you drop by to say "Hello" and wish everyone a Merry Christmas! Hope you will visit us a little more often!
For breakfast this morning, along with the regular coffee, juice, hot chocolate and hot tea, you have blueberry muffins, and doughnnuts with holiday sprinkles on them.
Got the CD player loaded up with all kinds of Christmas music, our Christmas Dinner Party will begin at 11 a.m. EST (ah, what the heck: we'll party all day long!!)
M E R R Y C H R I S T M A S !!
blhanel wrote: Quite possibly the longest post ever posted on this forum as well, with the exception of Dale's research threads over on the Trackside Guides forum!
Merry Christmas Brian, and Mookie, Walt, Cher, Quentin, Joe, Dan, and everyone else who stops here.
I still think Linus says it the best-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKk9rv2hUfAThat's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.
Wow, Ray, that's a neat story. Quite possibly the longest post ever posted on this forum as well, with the exception of Dale's research threads over on the Trackside Guides forum!
Merry Christmas to you as well, and to all the diner denizens.
The Al Burt Story
As much as I would like to be able to send a Christmas card to all the regular participants of this forum, that idea is out of the question as I lack a complete list of names and addresses. A year ago however, I was struck by an unusual idea, and without elaborating too much, my Dad, Ray Loftesness, Sr. was a radio broadcaster and musicologist who spent 55 years in the radio and television broadcasting industry. In 1936 he went on the air with KSOO AM here in Sioux Falls, South Dakota with a Christmas radio show which was known as "Holiday Inn". I thought I would try to share with the rest of you folks one of the stories that my Dad would tell every year during the Christmas season. It is about a jaz musician who had written a lot of the Christmas music that we are so familiar with today, his life, his traggedies and his triumphs. This in effect will be my Christmas card to the rest of you. I only wish that it were possible for me to pipe the actual music through the speakers of your own home computers.
When the year is very old and all but one leaf of the lunar calendar has fallen, then the time of the Christmas carol is at hand. At first it's only a thin and tentative sound, a youngster perhaps at the piano, or some department store dusting off it's p.a. system, and then there comes the time for the little songs of Christmas; "Here Comes Santa Claus up on the Housetop", the Chipmunks barking inane phrases about the holidays, and of course, Rudolph nosing through the air, and more recently the rocking and rolling around our Christmas trees , but, as the days march on, the sound becomes more inevitably mellow, I think, and strong and beautiful, as if each one of us says, "Now wait a minute, let's keep Christmas still a shining thing." And in a restless age, like a comforting mantle, Christmas enfolds us in it's message. For in music, no matter how sophisticated we claim to be, and no matter how many times the silver bells ring in the so-called "popular song", we find the greatest sense of popularity and beauty in the good music of Christmas. And again and again we turn to the great hymms, the anthems, the songs of our religion, the time-tested carols, and hang on desperately, if briefly, to these which remain sane in a turbulent world.
Well, somewhere between the commercial song of December and the heritage of truly great Christmas music, lie the melodies we bring you at this hour at Christmas. These songs were born of love, facing immense odds of ever being heard at all. Indeed, you may be hearing them for the first time now. Some of them are old and feeling, but truly they are all contemporary in nature. With every one, a tender meeting of all that can be called the good in music for our Christmas. For these are the Carols, and this is the story of Alfred Burt. I've been telling people everywhere about Al Burt and his music, his tragedy and his triumph. And how love and friendship can uncover Christmas secrets that no one could ever dare dream of. All of this is a testament to the fact that there may be folks around us, each one of us crying out today, "Listen, I have something to say, something that can have meaning to you, something to help show you the way." Well, like all good stories at Christmas, this one is quite simple. Since 1939 I have been telling the world about Alfed Burt on radio and television, and I do so again this year, because while there is breath remaining, someone, I feel should believe in the art of writing the Christmas carols of our time. And Alfred Burt was surely one of these.
This is a time when the world falls in love, if only for a little while. Like the three kings in the story of the first Christmas, we, all of us find much of the joy of the season in the adventure of giving, even if it is only a letter, even if it is only a Christmas card, for no heart is too heavy or too sad, but what some small gift of love can make it glad. Alfred Burt was one of the happiest Christians to grace this earth, and devotedly believed THAT while he lived and went on to a greater glory, never knowing that his gifts of love had been found at last, and that all of us became beneficiaries of his talents, would we but take the time to to listen and accept the child-like faith that we need at this time of year.
Well, I met Alfred Burt in a crowded servicemans' canteen in metropolitan New York during the halcyon days of World War II. He, in the uniform of the Army Air Force, I, in a seaman's middie. The year was 1943 and he and I met by chance that evening, though some four years earlier, some of his friends had told me about his music. It was Christmas week in 1943, he had been home, now on his way to England, I, to leave for home for Christmas myself. Al Burt was a jazz trumpet player and that night had sat in on a musical show at the canteen run by Fred Waring for servicemen and women. The air in that place was filled with the anticipatory joys of the holiday season, even in the dark time of World War II. That evening was fun, much too short, and soon all of us were out into the night and on to our various destinations. Exchanging addresses, Al and I promised to see each other some day, but that would be ten years away, though letters and phone calls kept us in touch.
As my train streaked toward home in South Dakota that night, I pondered the man. There was something different about Al Burt. In my time, I had not known professional musicians of the old school parting company with a "God bless you, Ray". Indeed, most often it was something more perfunctory. Unconsciously on that snowy evening I began putting Al's life into perspective with mine in a legend that's never really quite finished.
Al Burt's story really begins in 1938. We are in Pontiac, Michigan and over at Saint Mark's Church Alfred Burt's father, Bates Burt, an Episcopal priest looked for a Christmas card he may send his parishoners, but not finding a sentiment he desired, Father Burt, a one-time artist spends two months of his precious time in drawing and water coloring 200 cards. Inside, he pens an eight-bar Christmas song in carol rhythm, which he laboriously had punched out on the church organ. He receives encouragement from his only son, Alfred who was studying music in the east at that time.
November 1939 came, and the rector welcomed his son home for Thanksgiving vacation. "Alfred, would you help me write a card carol this year? Folks seemed to like that idea." he said. And from Saint Mark's that year the parishoners and some friends receive a wood cut card with a thirty-two bar carol. It surprises them, pleases some with it's happy sound pertaining to the Advent. This was Alfred Burt's first Christmas card carol, called "We'll Dress the House".
During the next thirteen years this charming family custom would continue. In his first happy carol, Al showed an ability we thought, to cross the bridge of time and space to place the fine line of the secular against those of religion and capture our imagination with thoughts of home and family and life and happiness, and just plain love of man and God.
There was always some conjecture of course that Al would someday write a really popular song, or some tune for the dance bands of that day, but somehow that never happened. And he would never write another piece of material away from the Christmas mood. As for Al himself, his devotion to the Christmas card carol became more than a duty he would do for his ministerial father, it seemed that he too was caught up in the joy of trying to provide new meaning to all the beauty of the Christmas story.
1940 came, and those of you who remember, must recall that we were on the threshold of an entire world being turned upside down by man's greed. And Al, in his own manner asked the parishioners of his church to remember that at a holy cradle they would find peace and healing grace for all mankind in the carol he called "Oh Hearken Ye".
Then 1941 came, and the world burned in war. Al Burt left for the service in September, but before he left, he gave his Dad the card carol for that year. It would be indicative of a series of minor key carols reflecting the times and he called it "Christ in a Stranger's Guise".
Our war raged on, and Al flew some of the toughest missions in the annals of the air force, but as each Christmas came around he somehow found time to write the music for the Christmas card from his father's church. Though we now notice that an old friend, church organist, Wihla Hutson is now writing the words. And we observe, "Well, it's nice to keep it in the church family." In 1942 a story of the pilgrimage to Bethlehem which he called "All on a Christmas Morning".
Ten days before we met him in New York in 1943, Al Burt had given his Dad the Christmas card for that year. 1943's carol remained in the minor key and took a close look at human failing and encouraged us to find the warmth of love in a cold world. This one was called "Ah, Bleak and Chill the Wintry Wind".
Then it was 1944. War seemed interminable to us and to Al, good and evil men contributed to decimating the globe with death and destruction, though it all seemed a crusade to once again end all wars. Sensitive to that, and in a hurry to get it over as we all were, Al's carols became stilly and chilly. He produced a song that year which pleaded with man to turn from the evil, to put fear aside, that Christ could be magnified. Here, another return to the nativity scene in his carol called "Nigh Bethlehem".
And finally, peace came. It was 1945. Victory was established, and all of us, with Al, winged home. For him, a brief stop in Michigan, and then on to California and a wedding to his loved one, Ann. And all of our happines of being home I think, was reflected in Al's delightful carol of family life with prayers to say and songs to sing in roundelay. And in no uncertain terms that happiness shown through one of his best gifts of all time, "Come Dear Children".
As I look back, it is at once strange and confounding that these songs were always with us who knew him, but we were inclined to forget. There were those who claimed "Well, it's a gimmick, we know a lot of folks who make their own Christmas cards." But something happened in the year 1945. Al's friends, who through the years had placed his card tenderly in the branches of our Christmas trees, began insisting that he try to get them published. Since they were all honest and really quite good. But Al, a shy individual, chose not even to try. He always claimed that no one really could care, and that what he had to say was just a personal greeting to friends, though I suspect he was fearing a debasement of his work by those he could not reach through Christ's message. In short, then as now a great deal of silliness was going on in the music world. Still, enough of us were persistent that year to an extent that the now defunct Collier's Magazine published the story of Al's father's church in Pontiac, Michigan, and the Christmas card custom. And in that Christmas magazine issue, Collier's printed four of Al's cards with his music. And out in New York, Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians took the four and performed them on NBC Radio. Well, we were all personally pleased at the brief recognition, but somehow you know, few people noticed, few cared, and even fewer remembered. In the haste to readjust our lives, to get at the "gold" of the good life that we had been denied for a while, we and everybody else were just too busy to to receive anew a simple message couched in song. Eight more Christmases were to spin into view before his carols came into their own.
Al, well he was busy now, choosing not to follow in his father's foot steps, though at one time he had desired to be a priest, Al rather, stayed in the music business. Under any circumstance, it's a tough life, and yet he was happy in it. He took a job on a California radio station. He composed a little, played a lot, spawned a lovely child and like many another in show business, spent his money on others, sometimes foolishly. But then a professional musician does not always have work either. And in that quest he finally took a job as a trumpet player for the dance tunes of Alveno Rae's orchestra and the equally popular King Sisters. It was a good choice at the time, he worked steadily, and the King family learned to love him.
Yet it was not an easy life. Swinging aboard a tour bus to cris-cross the country, on one-night stops at dance halls everywhere. Gone from his family and his money slipping through his fingers almost unknowingly, mostly because he could never meet a musician or stranger in need without giving a helping hand without ever a thought of repayment.
And so the one-nighters continued. Al Burt was later to tell me, "You know, in those eight years the only thing I accomplished of any value at all were the eight Christmas card carols I did for my Dad's church, and no one knows them!" And that was true when he said those words. Well, what did he give us in those years? A lovely song of "Christmas Cometh Caroling". A lullaby in a manger, a Latin text designed for Catholic and Episcopal churches, Jesu Parvule".
And then in 1950 he created what was eventually to become one of the three most recognizable Al Burt carols. Most of us in the radio business, and later television, took this song and used it generously for Christmas programs. Happily, you hear it generously this season again. It's the beautiful, lovely "Caroling, Caroling".
In 1951 it was obvious that Al Burt's musical talent had begun producing better sounding carols, the type which could be accepted universally if anyone could hear them. In that year his inspired thought produced what was to become undoubtedly, his most often heard carol these days, and every stellar recording artist has by now put it on record or used it on television; Bing Crosby, Andy Williams, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Lawrence Welk, Engleburt Humperdink, and all the rest have been heard singing his beautiful and lovely "Star Carol".
Happiness was reflected in his 1952 song. By it's very tempo, we though that Al may have slipped into the secular now for sure, but scanning the words, we find that it contains the most important ingredient, a message of hope to a troubled world. A song filled with decorations, snow, mistletoe, children's voices, but also with the Angels' voices and the story of the holy night. He originally called it "This is Christmas", but we have come to know it as "Bright, Bright the Holly Berries". "Bright, Bright the Holly Berries" is a happy song, and yet back in those years no one listens.
In this city here in South Dakota I take the carols to two hometown college music professors. I am turned away. I try a high school vocal director, he claims he can write better carols with one hand tied behind him. I leave, and he NEVER does what he claims he can do. I go to three churches in my town, two ministers of music laugh at the songs, and one upbraids me for endeavoring to induce him to use such "secular tunes from such a secular man, a dance band musician indeed, out!" And I was. And across this nation times were changing, popular music changed, and out in California the Alveno Rae band folded up. It's now much too expensive to haul thirty people around the country on dance jobs, worse than that, the California radio station fires all of it's live musicians in favor of the shaboom and rock trend, which would change the music business forever. Alfred Burt can not adjust. Age and custom work against him. His debts become monumental, he is desperate. Bankers, loan people, and even the church can not find the chance of return security from an unemployed musician after all. Al Burt's spirit sags. He falls ill, struggles to his feet and heads for New York, maybe there will be some work. The east coast union does not welcome or accept him back, and in late fall of 1953 Al Burt is knocking on doors of music publishers on and off Broadway, carrying with him the only thing of value he has left in the whole world, thirteen Christmas carols. He haunts the publisher's office. He is chased out. He tried the musicians circles in New York, they are sympathetic, but "who buys Christmas carols?", is the question, and the anser is "No one!"
And then it is done. Al Burt returns home to California. It is October. Yet his quiet faith implicit in this life moves him yet to write another carol, to be his very last. He sings it to his wife, and then quietly and softly deals his loved one yet another blow in words which will be the last he shall ever speak, for tomorrow at the hospital they will tear from his throat his only means of communication dear to him. And Al Burt shall never again play the trumpet, or sing or talk. And in addition, medical help has come too late.
Ten days before Christmas in 1953, Alice King and the King sisters decided to have a party for personal show business friends in California. Having checked with his doctor and his wife, she felt sure Al would like to get together with all the folks who yet believed in his abilities. She invites folks from thousands of miles away. Everyone gets the message, and we converge on that house in California by car, train and plane. All the nice people in show business are there as we walk in; the King sisters of course, Alveno Rae himself, Halley Aydes, Roy Wingwald, Harry Simeon, Frank Devall, Les Brown, Ralph Carmichael and many, many others, including friends of Al we had never known, and then, there was Al himself. Now in a wheelchair, his very being sapped by the disappointments and the cancer that would take him. Communicating now only with a toy bicycle horn in liew of a voice, but in his eyes, the brightness of hope, and the love that never left him for the people that he cared for. And there he was, in the thick of the most secular party in California, smiling, wheeling to the piano where he promptly began playing Jingle Bells and White Christmas, and Silent Night and all the others. And we sang, and sang and sang to him and for him. And then, someone lifted up the piano bench and took out all of his thirteen carols, and we sang these with a Christian joy few us had ever experienced for a lot of years before that.
Now, the next morning, I don't know who's idea it was, but leaving Al Burt at home, all of us journeyed down to Al's church in the San Fernando Valley, and borrowing Buddy Cole at the organ, and also borrowing Buddy's recording equipment, we threw an informal choir together and recorded all thirteen of his carols. We had quick acetate record copies made, and sent them to every radio station we could think of in the country. And in a few days disc jockeys across the nation were passing on to listeners the Al Burt Carols. No, I will never know what stirred in that room filled with that party that night. Columbia Records, hearing the hurredly prepared record in their New York offices, called to say that they would buy the recording, and in less than five days turned out the first commercial record album of Al Burt's Christmas music, unheard of in the music or record business. And an old friend out in Pennsylvania, knowing something of all this, called us to say that he would publish all of them now, and he did and still does today, and that was Fred Waring. In nine short days the miracle of friendship turned the corner and raced toward a happy ending which none of us could yet see.
We all went home for Christmas then, and for each of us soon, a note of thanks from Al, and a wish for a Merry Christmas at home for each of us. And with it, his last musical Christmas card. But on December 22nd in 1953, at the age of thirty-four, Al Burt's life came to an end. Sad indeed, and yet for the living a genuine lesson. For it seemed to many that Al had little to give at Christmas time, but they were wrong. For here today and tonight across this land, and tomorrow across the world, the old, old story of Christmas receives a new sound, lovely, muted melody being sung by great artists, yes! But also by our high school and college choirs. And more importantly, being sung back in the church where it all began, you know. Friends, this is the true story of Al Burt, musician, composer, father, husband, Christian. Today, his family still well and happy would have me thank you for making his life at last known and for learning to love his music at this season. What a man should say, Al Burt said. What a man should do, he did. What a man should be, he was. And oh, before I forget, his last Christmas carol, his fourteenth, one which proved that Al was bigger than a mean world which surrounded him, for he saw the light of God through the eyes of children of the world and transferred a message from another time to this present little instant in the unforgettable Christmas carol he called "Some Children See Him".
To each and everyone of you out there, I wish you a very Merry Christmas!! And may God bless you all!
Ray Loftesness II
CANADIANPACIFIC2816
Y6bs evergreen in my mind
cw thanks for supper tonight.cannonball glad that your previous experience is helping out.and staying out of mammas way here lately is top priority.just say yes maam and move on.matt and I are going to take a couple cookies to go.mammas got a list for town.
stay safe
Joe
Deshler Ohio-crossroads of the B&O Matt eats your fries.YUM! Clinton st viaduct undefeated against too tall trucks!!!(voted to be called the "Clinton St. can opener").
Good afternoon, everyone! I am busy working on start up preps for our Christmas Party Dinner tomorrow, I decided to do our Friday Fish Fry today. On the warmer bar, you will find the following fish:
1. Bass2. Catfish3. Cod4. Perch5. Tuna fillets
Also have the sides: corn on the cob, fries, hushpuppies, baked beans, and cole slaw.
And plenty of Christmas cookies, egg nog and boiled custard for dessert.
Cannonball, I bet that if you were here, delivering the fresh produce on Tuesdays, we'd have a much better selection, than what we're getting right now.
Everything's now on the warmer bar (with the exception of the cole slaw, and it's in the cooler, as usual), so help yourselves!!
CW; finally got time to do volenteer work at the south side social center. Care club food boxes 2nd. wed. & TFAP 3rd. wed. 4th.thur. produce.Some times I even get to drive a 1/2 ton pickup to get canned goods. HEH HEH LOL Wow !! Its' the right thing to do, and keeps me out of Shirleys'hair and her kitchen. Ahhhh life is good.
MERRY XMAS. To you and yours .
Cannonball & Shirl
Ms. Mookie; 10-4 on the coffee urn. I have a Haz Mat endorsment on my CDL , so I can cross any state line needed to get there. HEE HEE LOL .
Cannonball
....The shared and leased power mentioned above, reminds me as we were in our "Family Restaurant" a bit after noon yesterday....On CSX headed west, a train led buy a BNSF and a silver / red Sante Fe power double and no CSX engines....Just the western power units.
Ms. Mookie; you are invited to ( snow bird ) it for a spell here at Phoenix Az. ~~ The temp at 7:00am was 58 deg. There will be a scorcher day todayof 75 deg. and plenty of sunshine. Amtrak & BNSF are very active here. Plus there is a very busy switch yard at Mc. Dowell rd. There are also stored engines of all colores , something about shared and leased horse power on demand. ~~ In the mean time , you and Driver keep warm and dry.
MERRY XMAS.to you and yours .
Respectfully, Cannonball & Shirl.
....And we have 27 degrees...2 hrs ago, and bright sunshine again. What snow is left, it will work on it today as the temps rise.
edblysard wrote: Wow, I feel really bad now...it's 80 degrees, sun is shining, gentle breeze blowing nice and easy off the Gulf....not a snowflake or icicle in sight...and I have to mow my lawn tonight so we can find the cats when they go out....and you guys are all trapped inside eating...wait a minute......
Wow,
I feel really bad now...it's 80 degrees, sun is shining, gentle breeze blowing nice and easy off the Gulf....not a snowflake or icicle in sight...and I have to mow my lawn tonight so we can find the cats when they go out....and you guys are all trapped inside eating...wait a minute......
Enjoy it while you can Ed....Ma Nature has a seriously defective sense of humor with you folks down there on the Chemical Coast. (Santa bringing you a new snorkel & wetsuit for switching in monsoon season?)
A balmy 20 here, but no fog. Rain in the forecast over the weekend - YUK!
Taking tomorrow off and they gave us Monday off, so no work for 5 straight days (unless you count what I've got to do around the house). No complaints here.
The kids will be in MD (two different places). I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet holiday, which means it will probably be anything but.
Bearclaw and some tea. I'll be in my usual booth.
Larry Resident Microferroequinologist (at least at my house) Everyone goes home; Safety begins with you My Opinion. Standard Disclaimers Apply. No Expiration Date Come ride the rails with me! There's one thing about humility - the moment you think you've got it, you've lost it...
mookie
here is your tea and bagel.we have melting snow which is creating fog as well. matts school is delayed 2 hours today.one more night at work.got to get some chores done then its nap time.
joe
I have an ache between the ears....can I spell migraine twice?
Mine stem from sinus headaches and with enough ibuprofen, it will go away. Sure hurts, tho.
So foggy out there we had to get here at a crawl. That's not something we have a lot of in these parts.
Hot tea and a slouch in a chair will do me this morning.
Hope you are all ok.
Later.
Good Thursday morning, to one and all. Not too cold here in Louisville this morning: 37 degrees outside, and no rain. Although, we have some coming towards us, for later on this afternoon/evening.
Coffee, juice, hot tea and hot chocolate are all ready. Regular breakfast menu items are on the warmer bar.
You all have a good morning, and I'll be in the kitchen, or taking out trash, or finishing decorating for Christmas in the train room side of the Diner.
Houston Ed!! How the heck are you?!?!?! You've been one of the ones missing around here (for quite awhile, isn't it?). Welcome back to the fold, man!! How are you and the family? Can't imagine having to mow grass, a week before Christmas!
Joe, got a couple of containers ready for you, for work tonight, in the fridge.
Bob, no, unfortunately, I don't have a locomotive Christmas cookie cutter. But I do have a locomotive shaped cake pan. Dang it, I keep giving away secrets. That's the shape of the cake for our Christmas Party Friday.
CW thanks for the cookies and for supper tonight.we got lot of chores to do.thanks to mookie for letting me borrow the hammock.Ed you need help mowing and trimming the swamp??
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