If You Have Crying Eyes – J D Southern ( with Linda Ronstadt)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCfjRMC7HfE – Southern Cross – 2024 – Hollywood Bowl
J.D. Southern Inducted into Songwriters Hall of Fame
27 Saturday Apr 2024
Posted Uncategorized
inIf You Have Crying Eyes – J D Southern ( with Linda Ronstadt)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCfjRMC7HfE – Southern Cross – 2024 – Hollywood Bowl
J.D. Southern Inducted into Songwriters Hall of Fame
27 Saturday Apr 2024
Posted Uncategorized
in25 Monday Mar 2024
Posted Uncategorized
in24 Saturday Feb 2024
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
The next day was Friday. Winter prom was one week away. Chloe approached her friend Becca.
“Becca, what do you say if we went ahead and went to the prom?”
“We don’t have dates,” Becca’s replied blankly.
“Yeah, well neither do a lot of the girls. Why don’t we bunch up and all go, together? It might be fun.”
“Well,” Becca wrinkled her brow in thought. “You know, why should the Jennifers in the world have all the fun? Let’s do it!”
Becca was the official social networker of their group. Chloe let her work her magic. Soon, there was a group of about ten loser girls with no dates who were willing to go stag. Becca was bubbling. Chloe could relax and focus on getting a dress and having her hair done. Her mother was surprised but not against the idea and started calling around hair shops.
“And,” said Chloe archly to Becca, “we’ll just go to that damn, dumb party at Jennifer’s house and say the Hell with all of them!”
“You’re brave, Chloe. I don’t know …”
“Don’t be a weenie, Becca. If we do it, we do it all the way.”
“Okay,” Becca replied, reluctance in her voice.
The big day arrived. Chloe had borrowed a cute satin cocktail dress from a friend. It was a jade green color, almost emerald and went well with her skin tone. She and mom had gone shopping for heels. She got a pair of killer black patent leathers with gold bands. Her hair was done up and the stylist managed to get every single curl in place. Mom arranged some little rhinestone pins throughout the do. Chloe looked at herself in the mirror. The stones twinkled back at her. Wow! She was looking good!
Her mom was crying, her dad was taking pictures; her little brother was lurking around the corners when Becca’s dad drove up and honked. Girls were piled in the SUV, giggling and laughing hysterically the whole way.
They had gotten permission to go to the after party as long as they were home by midnight. Two girls had their own cars and followed them.
The prom was set up in the school gym. The place had been transformed into a fairyland with lights, fake snow. Big, huge silver snowflakes hung on the curtains. Little round café tables were around the edges and candles flickered in the middle. Bowls of potpourri lent a scent of apples and pumpkin to the air.
“Do you see him?” Becca whispered.
“Who?”
“Oh, come on, Chloe. Oh, look, I think they are over there.” Becca held her finger low and pointed across the room.
Indeed, a stiff and uncomfortable looking Greg was sitting in a tux with both hands holding his knees. He looked a lot like he wanted to be somewhere else. Jennifer was in a froth of pink tulle with silver stars everywhere and was gabbing busily with friends clustered in tables around her. Kiki was close by in a low cut, tight fitting deep purple gown. Her hair was sparkling with gold shimmer, and she looked bored. Chloe watched her bend over and speak to a young man at her table. The two got up as one and disappeared.
“Oh, forget them, Chlo, let’s dance!” Becca and the girls commandeered some tables and were soon out on the dance floor giving it everything they’d got. Curiously enough, some of the guys from their class started to show up and several of the girls were then dancing with guys and not just girlfriends.
Winded, Chloe grabbed some punch and sat down to breathe. The disc jockey was playing a slow song. Unchained Melody, an oldie.
“Dance, Chloe?” she heard a masculine voice in her ear. She turned and it was Greg.
“Where’s Jenn?” she asked, incredulous.
“Oh, she went outside with some of her friends. Thought I would take a chance.” He smiled down at her.
Her stomach clutching, Chloe got up and he led her to the floor. She put her arms up, he took them, and they started a slow waltz.
“Reminds me of dance class, a long time ago,” he said.
“Yes, a long time ago.” Eventually, Chloe got closer and almost leaned her head against Greg’s shoulder. We feel so right together, the thought passed through her mind.
The music ended, Greg gave her the slightest bow and went back to his table. Chloe sank into her chair and stared at the dancers on the floor. Finally, a faint smile crept onto her face.
Becca came back and sat. “Wow, you look happy.”
“I am,” replied Chloe, “and we are definitely going to that after-party.”
“If you say so, chief.” Becca fanned herself.
At about eleven o’clock, Becca made the call, her dad appeared in front of the gym fifteen minutes later, and they piled in.
“Where are the other girls?” he asked.
“Oh, some got other rides, some went home. You know,” Becca tossed out casually.
“Okay,” her dad replied. “What’s the address?” Becca pulled the address out of her purse and her dad programmed it into his GPS pad. “Ah, the posh side of town.”
Becca shrugged, “I guess.”
Chloe had met Mr. Thompson any number of times. A short, buff but nice guy, he had a low forehead, dark eyes, black eyebrows that nearly met in the front and thick, dark hair cut almost into a burr. She had to admit to herself, although she didn’t want to, how much Becca resembled her dad.
Following the dulcet tones of the GPS voice, they arrived in the north side of town not long after. The SUV glided to a stop in front of a large, two-story house with immaculate lawn and flowerbeds; lights blazing from every window.
“What do her parents do again?” Mr. Thompson asked craning his neck toward the home.
“Oh, ah, I think her mom sells real-estate and her dad works at a bank downtown,” Becca chirped.
A white coupe with a black rag top was parked in the drive. The license plate read ‘Klassy.’ A Cadillac SUV was parked next to it.
“Hmm,” was his reply “must be doing darn well.” He leaned back over the seat, “Give me a call when you’re done Becca, and don’t be concerned about the time, ‘kay?”
“Look there’s her mom now,” Chloe added. A blonde woman with a dazzling smile, much like her daughter’s, was standing in the front doorway waving.
“See, Dad, told you her parents would be home.”
“Okay, then.” Her father seemed placated. “You two git.”
The two girls emerged from the vehicle and walked up the broad driveway to the door.
Jennifer’s mom was a trim 40+ something with beautiful hair, teeth and ensemble. “You’re some of Jennifer’s friends. Come in, come in!” She welcomed and waved again at Mr. Thompson. He waved back and the SUV glided off. The two went into the brightly lit room and saw a number of adults standing around having drinks. Chloe was thrown for a minute.
“Alright, girls. We are having our little soiree up here, but the kid’s party is downstairs in the basement.” She walked toward some stairs and pointed down with a big smile.
Chloe and Becca both smiled uncertainly and moved down the stairs toward the very loud music. When they got there, they were greeted with banging music, a flashing music ball hanging from the ceiling and a ton of teens. Some, Chloe knew and some she had never met before. They walked around a bit and headed for the food table.
Chloe picked up a small paper plate and was putting little sandwiches on it when she heard “Chloe, Becca! You made it!”
Next thing she knew, Jennifer was spinning her around and gave her a big hug. Chloe held the plate up hoping to not spill anything, her other hand clutching her small bag.
“So, good of you to come!” Jennifer was effusive and her eyes wide and bright. “I have to get you something to drink. Would you like punch?” She had to yell over the music.
“Sure, sure,” Chloe replied, “punch, great.”
“Okay, then. Wait here.”
Becca followed Jenn’s movements a moment and then looked at Chloe.
“Is she …?”
“High?” Chloe replied, “Totally.”
“Geese, I wondered what those guys were doing leaving the prom and going out the back door,” Becca stated.
“Well, so now we know, huh. We can just stay a little while, Becca. I didn’t think it was going to be like this, so loud and so …”
“Yeah, so everything,” her friend replied.
Jennifer returned bearing two red cold cups brimming with liquid. She handed them over. “Drink up! I got to go and find that Greg again. He keeps disappearing.” She flashed another fabulous smile and wove her way through the throng of dancing bodies.
Becca took a sip of her drink and almost spit it out. “What the hell?”
Chloe tasted hers. “Ah, this tropical punch has a real punch. Wow! What did they put in this stuff?”
“Do you think her parents know?” Becca asked and sipped some more punch.
“How could they not, they’re right upstairs?” Chloe answered looking around for something else to drink. There didn’t appear to be cokes out that she could see.
“Let’s just eat something, make the rounds and call your dad.”
“Okay,” Becca replied. “I hate to have him drive all the way back when he just dropped us off.”
“He told you not to worry about it.”
Becca sighed and popped a small sandwich in her mouth.
They made the rounds, both sipping the punch and noshing. It was after the second turn around that Chloe realized with a pang of discomfort that she didn’t know most of these people. They were teens but some seemed a lot older and almost all of them were either very high, very drunk or both. They passed Kiki in one corner, busy snogging another individual. Chloe couldn’t tell if it was a male or female.
Greg was nowhere to be seen. Chloe was about to tell Becca to call her dad when there was some shouting and a bunch of people started to run up the stairs. “He’s going to jump!” she heard.
Curiosity got the better of her and she followed the crowd up. A bunch of people were clustered at a side window, looking up. There was an outside patio above their heads, on the second floor. Jenn’s home was close to that of their next-door neighbor. Chloe saw to her horror, the neighbor had a pool and apparently, one of the young men from the party was on the patio and was going to dive into the neighbor’s pool. There was a momentary hush, then, a figure flew past. There was a loud Splash! Everyone cheered. Luckily, the kid landed in the pool. Almost immediately, the back door light at the neighbor’s house came on and Chloe could hear a man come out and scream at the kid in the pool. The wife came out in her slippers, a hand-held phone to her ear, talking.
Chloe and Becca pulled away from the window. They were both laughing and saying, “Can you believe it?” Becca was trying to call her dad but between the noise and the being jostled by others, she was having a difficult time.
Suddenly, there were loud sirens coming right down the street toward them.
I wonder if they are going to arrest that guy? Chloe thought to herself.
There was some loud banging on the front door; Jenn’s mother answered it to what looked like a phalanx of cops.
Very much to Chloe’s surprise, she got arrested for being an underage minor consuming alcohol. Also, a number of other people at the party got arrested to include Becca, Greg, Jennifer and Jennifer’s parents.
Two hours later, they were sitting in the hallway at the police station. They had had to give breath-a-lizer samples to the cops.
It was a grim-faced Mr. and Mrs. Thompson who both came to pick-up a sobbing Becca. “I didn’t know, Dad,” she kept saying over and over, as they led her out the door.
Chloe called her parents, and they were on their way to pick her up. Greg eased down into the plastic chair next to hers.
“Some mess, huh?” he asked without looking at her.
“I’ll say,” Chloe, replied, she was still clutching the little pearl evening bag. “By the way, where were you that whole time that guy was jumping into the pool?” She turned and looked at him. She had picked up a water at the front desk. She played with the cap, opening it an closing it nervously.
“I was on the balcony trying to talk him out of jumping. I kept telling him he could fall short and kill himself. But no, he’s on the school dive team. Said he knew he could make it.”
“Well, he did,” she answered.
“Yeah, he did and now he’ll probably be off the team after a stunt like this.” He leaned forward, resting his big arms on his knees.
“And you?” she asked.
“Well for starters, my dad already told me when I called him, to kiss the car goodbye.”
“Oh, wow,” Chloe stared at him.
“That’s for starters; then this arrest could cost me the water polo scholarship I was almost sure to get. My dad may have to have one of the attorneys at the firm bail me out of this thing.” He stared morosely at the floor.
“Oh, sorry.” Chloe also stared down at the floor. There was a pause. “Greg, did you know there was going to be alcohol at the party?” She glanced over at him.
“Oh, sure. Jenn’s parents have these kinds of parties all the time. Their philosophy is they want their kids drinking at home and not off somewhere else. Why do you think the cops showed up so fast? That neighbor of theirs has just about had it with them and had complained before.”
“Oh, well. That explains a lot of things, I guess.” Chloe leaned her arms against her legs too. They were both quiet for a time.
“And you know the crazy thing?” Greg turned and looked at Chloe.
“What?”
“I don’t even like Jenn that much. She is all about Jenn and her friends, all the time. I doubt she even knows who I am.”
“So, why go out with her?”
“Well, she is cute …” he said carefully, glancing at Chloe, “popular.”
“Hmm.” More silence.
“And her parents do have a killer house.”
“Ah.”
“But, clearly,” he stretched his long arms up and out, “that isn’t everything.” He waved around the station and let out a short laugh. He leaned one hand on the back of her chair.
She nodded still looking at the floor.
“Chloe, I know this is an odd time and maybe the wrong time, but …”
“Yes?” She lifted her head and turned to look at him.
“Would you like to go to a movie or something, coffee?”
Chloe smiled at him. “I really think, Greg Dudenhoeffer, that a movie with the likes of you is going to be a definite No in my household for a while. But coffee? That’s probably doable. She smiled again, and this time she really smiled. He smiled back.
“So, coffee?”
“Starbucks.”
“What day?”
“Wednesday is good.”
“After school?”
“Yes, after school.”
Greg let out a sigh. “Well, you’ll know me as the very tall guy on the bicycle.”
“I think I can hold onto that visual image.” She smirked. He smirked.
Greg was reaching over like he would give her a hug when her father showed up with a face like thunder.
“Greg, Greg Dudenhoeffer? You too? Jesus. What next? Come on Chloe, time to go home.”
Chloe got up to follow her dad. She turned at the last minute before they went out the door to give Greg a little wave. He waved back.
Yes, she thought to herself, this is really going to be my year!
Her mom was waiting in the car and Chloe let herself in the backseat. Her mom started firing questions at her, but her dad put up a stopping hand.
“Phyllis, enough time for that tomorrow. Let’s just get the kid home.”
The kid sat in the back seat wrapped in a warm, fuzzy glow.
The end.
11 Sunday Feb 2024
Posted Uncategorized
inTina Turner – Proud Mary – 1939-2023
Tina, born Anna Mae Bullock in Nutbush, Tennessee, was the child of share-cropper parents. She was married to Ike Turner in 1960. They later divorced and she remarried Erwin Bach in 2013.
Tina met Ike Turner in 1956 at the Club Manhattan and made her first record in 1960, A Fool in Love.
She was later discovered by Phil Spector, the music mogul, and 1969 was a cover band for the Rolling Stones. In 1971, she did a remake of the Creedance Clearwater song, Proud Mary. In 1976, she separated from her abusive husband, Ike Turner, later divorcing him in 1978.
In 1983 she recorded the hit, Let’s Stay Together and in 1985 was featured in the hit movie, Mad Max and the Thunderdrome, with the song, We Don’t Need Another Hero.
She was well-known for her singing, short-skirts, high heels and energetic dance company ensembles. She will be truly missed by a multitude of fans.
John Krasinski – Lip Sync Battle
John Krasinski; 10/20/79 -, is married to actress Emily Blunt and they have two daughters. He is well known for his time on the TV series, The Office, the movie Fantastic Four and others.
Berrino did this number as a tribute to Tina.
Fantasia Berrino
07 Wednesday Feb 2024
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
books, dancing, drinking, jane-austen, movies, romance, short-story
Courtney Webb
(Jane, 29 years, working as a waitress and bartender, gets told by her doctor that she was a chronic gastric problem, probably aggravated by drinking. It is important she changes her lifestyle, so she does. She becomes the receptionist and then dance partner at an exclusive dance studio.)
That had been six months ago. Jane had made good on her promise to the doctor and had stuck to the diet plan and taken all the pills. The major change was the job. She realized there was no way she was going to be able to stay away from the booze and still work at Bistro 30. Too many temptations and too many crazy men always trying to buy her drinks, among other things.
It was okay, she had been doing the bar thing for years. Despite earning excellent money with tips, she lived in a junky apartment with a weird roommate and drove an old car. She had basically nothing to show for all the money she had earned. It was time for a change. She was ready.
She had applied for the job as a receptionist at the dance studio. She didn’t have strong office skills, but the wife of the owner assured her that ‘personality’ was what they wanted on the job.
“You will meet and greet the customers when they come in the door. Yes?” Lady G said. “It is important that they feel welcome and that we want them to be here. They are not just our customers, they are our guests. Very welcome guests, yes?”
Lady G was foreign and tended to repeat herself a lot. It was okay. Jane liked her. Lady G was older than Jane by about ten years. Funny, they even looked a little alike. Small and slim. Blue eyes, to Jane’s green and dark hair to Jane’s red. Yes, Jane liked her and liked the studio. It was in a good section of town and everything about it smelled fresh and new. Plus, it emanated a certain quality.
What was it? She thought to herself. Oh, yes. Money. Jane liked that. She like it a lot.
She accepted the job and went to work. Mr. G was in and out of the studio and she just caught glimpses of him. Very tall, slim, and older, but quite good looking when you got him in focus.
Larry Gee started staying later in the evenings to help her out with the desk. Jane found him to be sweet and kind.
Not anything like the guys in the bar. They were loud, boorish, arrogant, and dominating. All those men were like cookie cutter dolls, Jane thought to herself. They only want to own me, like a thing, like a doll. Not a person. Not like Mr. G. There’s a guy who knows how to treat a lady like a lady.
So, Mr. G became Larry. He and Jane became working buddies. Larry ran the studio with his wife and gave private lessons to individuals and couples. After she had been at the studio a couple of months, Jane was able to save up some money for private lessons.
There were other instructors at the studio of course. The older guy with dyed hair, Fred. Fred was married and had been teaching dance lessons forever. Then, the Asian guy who was very slick and only did evenings. There was the older woman, Maude, who was very nice and kind to Jane. There were couple of twenty-somethings there too. A college girl and then Studly guy. Studly naturally would have been quite a catch.
But man, were the women all over him. He’s clearly not gay, and they can’t get enough of that! Too much competition for sure. Jane ruminated. Ah, none of them compared to Mr. G. He was the man, Jane sighed dreamily.
It was not long before Jane and Mr. G were doing privates in the evenings before he went home. Jane was in heaven. She could not remember any man ever making her feel quite this way. Ever. Except for that time at Bistro 30 with the owner …
#
Stanley was a welder. He had been a welder most of his life. He started back when he was eighteen learning the trade at his uncle’s shop. Stanley was a big kid, even then, and took to the trade and learned it rapidly. Stan wasn’t much for school and books. He liked working with his hands.
That and the fact he had crooked teeth, warts and three fingers on one hand, he wasn’t a big hit with the ladies. He frequently kept his ‘bad’ hand in his pocket to avoid stares and jibes from the other guys. The deformity was genetic, so the doctors told his parents, and there was absolutely nothing they could do to fix it. Learning to live with it and being different from other people had been Stanley’s cross to bear.
He liked the shop. He got to know all the guys and did much of the work alone by himself, so he wasn’t in the public eye much. That was fine with him. The ‘bad’ hand was no problem in his work, and he could handle materials just like the next man. Eventually, he started to make good money doing welding. He started to buy the things his parents couldn’t afford when he was growing up. New clothes, a nice car. Eventually, he was even able to afford a little house.
With money in the bank, a new set of wheels and a house to call his own, Stanley became more of a catch. Eventually he attracted a woman at church who could look past the hand and the teeth. A year later they got married. Stanley remained happily married for over twenty years.
It came as a blow when Genene, his wife, developed ovarian cancer. Within two years she was gone and once again, Stanley was on his own. At fifty, the teeth were still crooked, the bad hand was still the same, but he had now developed a middle-age paunch from all of Genene’s good cooking. That, plus he had some sore joints from constantly lifting and pulling heavy objects at work.
Stan tried a number of activities that involved women. Nothing much worked. He was a complete wash-out at bars. Despite how much money he threw around, he couldn’t compete with the younger, good-looking guys. He still went to church, but the women there seemed to get older and dowdier by the year. He couldn’t bowl anymore because of his bad shoulder. So, he was delighted when he discovered the new dance studio. The staff were friendly and eager to help. They were happy to take his money for dance lessons and in return, treat him with respect. The staffers didn’t avoid him like some freak. He even made some friends and was starting to get comfortable. That is until they hired the new girl, Jane.
Stanley goggled at Jane. She was so beautiful. Small and petite. Big green eyes in a pixie face. Small but curvaceous body. It was love at first sight. And, on top of that, she was so friendly! She would call him by name when he came in the door and laugh and giggle when he spoke to her.
Was she flirting with him? His mind reeled at the thought. She would even step in when some of the instructors were busy and act as his dancing partner. She was small and light on her feet. Nothing like Genene who, although Stan loved his wife, he had to admit was as clumsy as all get out. His wife could bang into a barn door going through if she weren’t careful.
No, Stan had to admit, even Genene had never made him feel like this before. Was he in love? He didn’t know what to call it. But, when they were dancing, everyone else and everything else just faded away. It was just him and Jane floating along, and he wanted it to last forever.
#
Jane was running to work these days in eager anticipation. The days could be drag some as couple after dull, middle-aged couple came in for privates with their favorite instructor. Lessons for an upcoming weddings, anniversaries, reunions. Whatever, you name it. Jane had to laugh and giggle to herself.
“As if anything was going to put some zing! in their sex life,” she whispered in a low voice indicating the plump couple on the dance floor. They were going slowly over the steps with Madge, the older instructor.
Larry, sitting next to her at the front desk, snickered.
“More like two dancing hippos,” she whispered back at him. “Maybe we should get them matching tutus.”
This time Larry laughed so hard he had to put his head down. Red in the face, he recovered himself.
He pointed a finger at her, still smiling. “Don’t you ever…”
“I won’t! Trust me! What can I do that South Beach Diet couldn’t?” Innocently, she looked over the raised countertop at the couple.
Larry took a deep breath and got up. “See you at 7 PM?”
“Yep, I’ll be there. I think I’m getting this waltz thing.”
He patted her on the shoulder and went to do some glad-handing with another couple who just came in.
Stanley came in the front door and paused at the desk. He leaned a hand on the counter.
“Stanley, you’re here!” Jane chirped. “Afraid Maude won’t be done with that couple for another half hour.”
“Thanks, okay. I’m good,” he replied. “I’ll just wait.”
Jane nodded and smiled at him. She noticed the hand for the first time.
Does he only have three fingers? Uck! She thought but continued to smile at the man while he went to plant himself on a sofa. Euw, she thought, creepy! Glad I don’t have to dance with him much. The very thought of it sent a wave of revulsion through her body. She had to shake it off and refocus on what she was doing.
Later, she and Larry danced and laughed. Once again Jane felt restored, like she was in heaven and her life was perfect.
When they were finished, Jane sat taking off her dance shoes and putting on regular street shoes.
“Oh, Jane, you two dance so divinely.” It was one of the older women, a regular at the studio. “You look just like Lady G did when they danced years ago.” The woman smiled broadly at Jane. “Before she had all those kids of course.” The woman simpered.
Jane smoothed down her wavy hair and stuck her chin up. I bet we do look perfect together, she thought. She got up with her shoes and bag.
“Thank you so much,” she replied. “I’ve been working really hard.” Jane didn’t have any children. Generally, she didn’t mention the three abortions she had awhile back.
She stuck the bag behind the counter and hunted around for her purse and keys. Time to go. Maude and the young guys would lock the place up. Larry had already left. Jane waved a big goodbye to everyone and stepped out into the cool night air.
“We look perfect together, ma’am, because we are perfect together,” Jane breathed out into the night air. “In fact, we belong together, and I am just starting to realize that.” In the pink cotton candy cloud that Jane called her brain, she floated out to her used car and started it up for home.
#
The next day, Jane was back at her duty station, not only on time but a little early. She was very surprised to see Lady G at the studio. Jane glanced at the clock. Lady was usually never in this early. Didn’t she have work to do to the elementary school or something?
Jane plastered a smile on her face.
“Morning, Lady G. Good to see you!”
“Oh, Jane.” Lady looked up from her appointment book. “Yes, yes.” She tapped a pencil against her teeth. “Right. Weren’t you telling me, Jane, that you wanted to learn to be a dance instructor?”
Jane gaped a moment. Recovering, “Well, yes … In time, but …”
“Well, you won’t believe this. We are getting so busy; Maudie needs some help in the evenings. You could assist her. Learn the ropes kind of thing. What do you say to that?”
Jane was momentarily flattered. Things were happening so quickly!
“Well, yes, Lady, if you think so. If you think I’m ready.”
“Ready,” Lady laughed and smiled a very wide smile. “You are a natural.” Her eyes glinted. She smiled even more broadly. “So, that’s a yes?” her eyebrows went up.
“Ah, yes.” Jane was stumbling a little for words. “I’d be happy. The desk …”
“Pish-posh, the desk. Arron can always handle the desk. We need people on the floor.”
“Okay, it’s a yes then.” Jane was definite this time.
“Good, good.” Lady G tapped her teeth again and looked at her book. “I think…yes, tonight. I think you’ll start with Stanley. He’s pretty new and can really use some help.”
Jane’s stomach clutched. “Stanley?”
“Yes, Stanley, you know who he is, right?”
“Yeah, sure, I ….”
“Good, good. I’ll tell Maude.” She turned to go and turned back. “Oh, and another little thing. Since you will be helping Maude, Larry won’t be able to slot much time for those private lessons. You understand. Need him at home more and all that stuff.” Lady G smiled again and winked at Jane. Then she turned and went to help some dancers.
Jane gripped her hands together and sat down slowly on her swivel chair.
She knows, kept running through her brain. She knows!!!!
Jane stared into space for a good longwhile.
#
The following weeks turned into a blur for Jane. She was running into work, doing housekeeping clean-up as usual, balancing the sheets at the front desk, and greeting the studio guests. She was no more done with that, than Maude would show up for lessons. Jane became the dance partner for the men while Maude watched and gave pointers.
Jane started out liking the dancing, now she was starting to feel like something out of The Red Shoes. She wasdancing her feet off and going home exhausted. And then, Stanley. Jesus! The man seemed to show up either every day or every other day. It seemed she was constantly stuck with him. He was always smiling that sickly-sweet smile at her. Then, he started to bring her little gifts. He wouldn’t just leave a card or note. He’d wait until she was away from the desk and slip it in when no one else could see. If she got one more box of chocolates she would scream. She began opening them up and letting ‘everyone share’. Lately, she was walking them into the staff room and dumping them in the trash.
God, she couldn’t stand that guy! And heaven forbid she said anything to anyone. He was a great paying customer and they loved that. To top it off, Larry was there less and less. They had not had a private lesson in over a month, and he kept scuttling out of the studio promptly at 6 pm.
“Got to get home to those kids, you know,” he’d say. Then, giving her a warm smile or a wink, boom, he was out the door and into the night. Just when it couldn’t get worse, Lady G seemed to be hovering around more than ever.
Reminds me of a pesky nat. Wish I could just swat her! Jane dunked her teabag into a cup of hot water with furious little jabs. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself, she was starting to hate her life and didn’t know what to do. She felt trapped.
It was that spring that the studio held its Spring Showcase of Talent. Many of the regulars from the studio were going to be in the show and all the instructors. Of course, Larry and Lady G, the professional dancers, would be performing. Jane considered throwing her hat in but honestly, was too tired to practice for some dumb show.
One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Jane found herself in the organic wine aisle looking at the bottles.
Hum, made naturally with only organic grapes in the heartland of California’s own wine country. “Well,” she told the air, “How bad can it be? It’s all organic.” She bought a bottle and took it home. The next day she had a headache and was surprised to find when she was in her kitchen looking for Tylenol, that a completely empty bottle was in the trash.
“Did I do that?” she said softly. She located the bottle of pills in the cupboard and forced open the bottle. She grabbed two pills and downed them with water. She was walking out of the kitchen when she looked at the wine bottle again. She stopped and shoved it further down in the trash.
Dancers were running in and out of the studio as the Showcase approached. Jane was delirious with constant lessons. Maude was shouting and yelling as more and more dancers practiced their routines for the show.
Jane was stopping at the grocery store on a nightly basis now to get her organic wine. She kept promising herself she would make the bottle last two nights, but it never did. She began to buy some small pints of vodka to get through the evening. Her unhappiness at work kept increasing.
It seemed like she rarely saw Larry these days, but Stanley kept appearing before her like some evil genie. She began to have bad dreams with Stanley in them. It always seemed like she was being forced into something, like some weird marriage ceremony with him. She woke up from these dreams sweating.
#
It was a Friday night, and the Showcase was happening at 7 PM. All the staffers were frantic getting the studio cleaned up and ready for the performances and guests. Lady G was supervising the costumes on the costume racks which were pushed into both staff rooms. Jane got out the vacuum and vacuumed the floor three times. People kept dropped bits of food on the carpet. She was nearly exhausted but keyed up at the same time.
They all had to park their cars further away than usual to give the guests more places to park. This was really annoying for Jane. It meant she had to go farther to get to the trunk of her car. She kept a bottle of hot vodka there and would go out and take sips on break. She choose vodka because everyone said you couldn’t smell it.
By the time she had made three trips to her car, the show was about to start, and she was light-headed. She parked herself at the desk and pulled her swivel chair around to watch. One tedious performance followed another for an hour and a half. Jane felt like throwing up. She couldn’t tell if it was the vodka or watching the dancers.
The show was winding down to the last few numbers. Larry and Lady G had something planned. They danced the tango to a hot salsa beat then stopped and took a bow. An older woman came on the floor leading three young tow-headed children.
Larry grabbed the microphone. “Thanks so much for coming tonight, folks. Lady G and I both want to thank you so much and introduce our three kids!” There was a huge round of applause and then the kids with mom and dad did a short rendition of Chattanooga Choo Choo with bells and whistles, Larry rotating his arms like the wheels of a locomotive. The crowd went wild with shouts and applause.
Jane was struck dumb. She knew Larry had some kids, but three? And all blond and adorably cute? And they all sang together? She couldn’t stand it. Jane groped in the dark for her evening bag and keys. Crying hysterically, she stumbled out of the studio.
Why, why? Why did that bitch get the guy and the house, and the business and the kids and all the applause? She should have that. She worked hard; she deserved center stage. She was younger and better looking. It just wasn’t fair. Jane stumbled toward her car. All she could think about was getting her hands on that bottle of vodka. She’d probably stop at the store on the way home and get a much, much bigger bottle this time.
She was still clutching something in her hand. It was the letter opener from the desk. She had forgotten she was even carrying it. Oh shit. She wasn’t going back for this dumb thing now. Screw it.
“Jane, Jane. What’s wrong?”
Out of the darkness, Jane heard the dreaded voice of Stanley. She turned. The asshole had followed her out to her car.
“You look upset. What’s wrong? Let me help you.” His face was wrinkled up with concern and sympathy.
Sympathy, Jesus, of all the things in the world I don’t need right now, sympathy was number one.
Jane turned back and kept walking. She felt his hand on her shoulder, she turned around. The three fingered hand. “Get off me you horrible old freak!” she screamed. She staggered backward.
He lunged forward to catch her. That’s when she lashed out with the letter opener. It sank into Stanley’s juggler vein. Blood started to pump out of the vein and Stanley sank to the asphalt with one hand on the letter opener and a surprised look on his face.
Jane stood and stared in horror as Stanley was quickly covered in his own blood. She wanted to scream but no sound came out. In moments, it was over, and he was completely still, laying on the asphalt. She backed away from the body. First slowly, then quickly, then she was running. Running and stumbling as fast as she could, away.
Away, got to get away, was all she could think of. She jabbed the car key into the lock, wrenched the door open and jammed the key into the lock. She didn’t bother with the bottle in the trunk or even putting on her seat belt. She screamed out of the parking lot without another look back.
The next day, the cops were all over the parking lot after an early morning shopper found Stanley’s dead body. There was crime scene tape around the place and cops were busy talking to everyone they could find.
Unfortunately for the police, this little section of parking lot where the employees parked, was the darkest part of the lot. The camera range didn’t extend that far. There had been a lot of people at the Showcase but most of the businesses were closed at that time. At the time Stanley died, Larry and Lady G were busy accepted rounds of applause from the audience. No one could be exactly certain about who was or was not there.
The detective shook their heads and kept making notes in their little books. They promised to come back when most of the staff instructors were there to teach lessons.
It was probably mid-morning before Maude realized that Jane was not at work. Larry checked the answer machine; the studio still had an old fashioned one for backup. There was a wavery message from Jane saying she had a bad headache and would make it in the next day.
Larry told the detective who made a note of her address and phone.
“Ah, if she doesn’t come in soon, we’ll have to go to her place to talk to her. You understand.”
Larry nodded. He felt vaguely guilty and wasn’t exactly sure why.
When the cops finally left with promises to come back, he looked at Maude.
“Maude, you know Jane pretty well. She wouldn’t do something like this, would she?”
Maude shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Larry. She hasn’t been herself lately. But, to do something like this? This bad? Wow, I don’t know. This new generation, you know?”
Larry sort of knew but was going to have to let it go for a bit. His head was spinning.
#
It was an anxious Larry Gee who reported in at the police station two days later. With his black clothing and pale skin, he looked a little out of place around the buff cops in their navy-blue uniforms and dark tans. Detective Martinez had asked that Mrs. Gee come too. Larry begged off and asked to be interviewed alone.
They were sitting in a private interview room now.
“She’s in Mexico,” Detective Martinez volunteered. “Miss Stanwell.”
“Oh,” Larry added.
“We got extradition laws with the State of Mexico. Lots of people don’t know that.”
“Oh,” Larry replied again. “So …”
“So, Mr. Gee, we wanted to know what you could tell us about this.” Martinez slid a slip of paper forward. It was in a clear plastic sleeve.
Larry read the note. His already pale skin blanched further and then started to turn pink.
“I, I don’t know,” he replied.
The detective pulled the note back, turned it around and read it. “I’ve gone forever. Tell Larry I’ll love him always. Jane.” There was a pregnant pause.
“Why would the young lady write such a note, Mr. Gee?”
Larry shook his head, numb.
“Was she, in fact, in love with you, Sir?”
Larry opened his mouth, and nothing came out.
The detective had a little black notebook and a short ink pen. “Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with the young lady. And, while we’re at it, why would she do such a thing as to stab a client like Mr. Stanley.”
“She, she was an employee. A good employee. She had only been with us a few months. I don’t …”
“Were you having an affair with the young lady, Sir?”
Larry blanched again. “No, no … no affair.”
“Okay, no affair.” Martinez made notes in his book and tapped his pen on the paper as he considered the man sitting across from him.
“No affair,” Martinez said slowly. He drew some little circles on the paper. “Then what?”
“What?” Larry looked confused.
“Yeah, what was it that was going on between you two?” Some more sharp taps of the pen.
“Jesus,” Larry sunk his head in his hands.
Now we’re getting somewhere, Detective Martinez thought to himself. He looked up at the two-way mirror and nodded at his partner who was standing on the other side, listening.
“It was nothing.” Larry finally pulled himself up and spoke.
“Nothing,” Martinez stopped tapping and looked at the man.
“Yes, it was nothing. A little flirting is all. Then, Jane, Miss Stanwell, asked for some private dance lessons. We arranged a discount price since she was an employee, and I gave her some lessons.”
“How private were the lessons?” Martinez had to force himself not to smile.
“They were all at the studio. Period. Definitely no hanky-panky, Detective. Believe me.”
Martinez nodded. “Go on.”
“Then, at some point, Lady G,” Larry paused, “my wife,” he said pointedly, “felt there was too much interaction between myself and the young woman. She took steps to change the schedule to get Jane doing other things. The privates came to an end.”
“I see,” Martinez said. “So, Lady G, your wife, was the one put a stop to the thing.”
Larry Gee crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, she did.” He was managing to look a little offended.
“So, if your wife had not done this, then …”
“Nothing, Detective. Nothing at all. I am married for the last ten years with three young children. There was nothing going on between me and Miss Stanwell and there wasn’t going to be either.” Larry nodded up and down with some force.
“Okay, Mr. Gee. I get the picture. A little light flirting with the girl. Wife gets wind and changes the girl’s duties around. Is that when she began to partner with Mr. Stanley?”
“I believe so,” Larry added. “Miss Stanwell was being coached by one of our oldest teachers, Maude Adams. It was Maude who assigned her partners.”
“That would explain, I guess,” Martinez added, “how it was she even knew the deceased.”
Larry nodded. “I believe so.”
“What possible motive would the young lady have in stabbing Mr. Stanley, Sir? That you can think of?”
“I have no idea, Detective Martinez. I truly have no idea.”
A shaken Larry Gee left the station. Detective Martinez met with his partner back at their desks.
“So, what’s you think?”
“I think he’s a pretty boy dork, who almost had an affair. The wife found out and put a stop to it. Don’t think he’s involved. Scared of his own shadow that one.”
Martinez nodded his agreement.
“You looked at her picture? Stanwell?”
His partner nodded. “Yeah, she’s a looker for sure. Won’t do well in prison.”
“She might get manslaughter. Un-premeditated thing.”
“My guess too.” O’Reilly picked up his coffee cup and stared at the contents. He got up to get a fresh cup.
“So, Reilly, what’s you thinking ‘bout what happened here?” Martinez asked casually.
“Me?” O’Reilly tapped his cup. “Ah, if I was to hazard a guess, I’d say probably a case of unrequited love.” He started to walk away.
“Unre…. what?” Martinez spluttered.
“Ah, look it up partner. You got a dictionary that computer of yours. Unrequited.”
“Hey, pal. I been to college too, you know.”
“I do know, Martinez. And let me say the department is eternally grateful to online learning courses. But a word a day, Marti, a word a day.”
“You’re a pompous ass.”
“True, but I really do need another cup of coffee. Be back.” He slouched out of the room.
A few minutes later, refreshed, O’Reilly came back. He scooted his chair up to his partner’s desk.
“Okay, we got one very hot chick.” He pointed to Jane’s picture.
His partner nodded.
“Then, we got one older, fairly ugly dude,” he pointed to a picture of Stanley. “For whatever twisted reasons, Lady Gee, in a fit of pique …”
“What …?” His partner started to say.
“Aggravation call it. Puts the two of them together in this dancing thing.”
Martinez nodded.
“The hot chick here,” O’Reilly points, “falls for the handsome married guy,” he pointed to the printout labeled, Larry Gee. “He reciprocates just enough to get her cranked up and then pulls out. To use a phrase.” He grins at his partner.
“Ugly dude here,” he taps the picture of Stanley, “falls head over heels with beauty,” tapping the pix of Jane and tries real hard to make it work. “Ugly follows beauty to her car and tries something. God knows what. She sticks him and flees.”
Martinez held his chin with one hand. “Makes sense.”
“Plus, I think she was on something when this happened.”
“They didn’t serve liquor at that Showcase thing of theirs.”
“Yeah, I know they didn’t. But if you examine the record of your girl Jane, you’ll see she has two priors for drunk driving and one domestic assault charge. Maybe they weren’t serving liquor at the party, but I still think she was on something. We won’t know what it was ‘til we get her back here State side.”
“So, all fer love, huh? What an idiot.” Martinez shook his head.
‘Yeah, well: “The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart,” O’Reilly quoted.
“Who said that? Don’t tell me it was you,” Martinez frowned.
“St. Jerome,” his partner said. “We’ll know more when we see her.”
“Still think she’s an idiot.”
“Ah, Martinez, you’re just not a true romantic.”
“Not a romantic at all. Thank God.”
“Well, there’s that. Lunch?’
“Yeah, I need some food after all this creepy romance stuff. Yuk.”
“Sounds like a Tommy’s burger then.”
“You on, pal.”
They both grabbed jackets and left the office.
The End.
The End.
07 Wednesday Feb 2024
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
Some romances are more difficult than others.
Courtney Webb
She danced in his strong arms. They whirled around the parquet floor. Fairy lights twinkled above, and she could see flashes of herself in the floor to ceiling plate-glass mirrors.
The Strauss waltz played, and Jane threw her head back the way they had taught her. Her left hand on his shoulder, the right arm up and out to the side, almost rigid. His strong handsome features were above her. His salt and pepper hair glinted in the lights. She didn’t really need to look; she had his face memorized. Nearly seared into her brain, in truth. They spun around and around.
Her new dance shoes were holding up well. Her feet didn’t even hurt. The new dress was gently used from the top-end resale shop in the area. When one of the girls told her about it. Jane jumped in her old Chevy and zipped down there as soon as possible. She was happy with the purchase. It was clean, fit and the little rhinestones glinted nicely in the semi-dim lights.
Larry, her dance partner, was dressed in his usual all black attire. That is all he ever wore. It suited him Jane decided. It showed off the silver in his hair and the icy blue of his eyes. She couldn’t look into those eyes without haven’t the physical sensation of falling backwards. Wow! He was something. Where had he been her whole life? Tall, strong, handsome, caring. Whew!
There were other people on the dance floor also dancing and others sitting on the cushy benches to the side of the floor. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything else in the world. While they were dancing everyone else ceased to exist.
Jane let out a happy sigh. His wife would never know.
Jane was very happy with her new job as a receptionist at the dance school. It was a definite step up from the waitressing she had been doing at the bar and grill. Not that Bistro 30 was a bad place really. The clientele was steady, and the tips were good. It was just…well, the drinking. As Jane sat at the desk sorting receipts she thought back.
#
Dr. P looked at her intently as she sat on the padded exam table. She shifted uncomfortably on the white paper cover. He stood leaning against the counter, her file in his hands, studying it again. There was a frown on his dark, tanned face. He looked up at her. The black eyes were kind.
Jane really hated that. The kindness. Fuck him! Rich Indian shit with your fancy schools. She called him Dr. P because that is what everyone called him. None of the Americans could start to pronounce the twelve-letter last name. It would have been better if he had been mean to her, harsh. She was used to that. Used to men talking down to her like she was a three-year-old. A stupid three-year-old. Just because she was slight of build and on the short side. With her huge green eyes, men couldn’t help talking to her like she was, what? A life-sized doll?
Jane braced herself. She didn’t like the look on Dr. P’s face. He had ordered an intense series of gastro tests on her. All of which she was sure were unnecessary. It was just a little upset stomach, that’s all. She had them all the time. Some Pepto-bismo and aspirin …
Dr. P coughed and cleared his throat. “So, Jane. We got the test results back. I told you it would take some days, right?”
She nodded. I’m not stupid. Get on with it already.
“It looks like what I thought. Gastritis.”
“Gas what?”
“Gastritis. It’s an inflammation of the stomach lining.”
“Well, so? Can’t you give me something for it and I’ll be on my way?” Jane started to inspect the posters on the wall.
“Ah, well. It’s not quite that simple. I think we discussed this is kind of unusual in a person your age.” He glanced at the file again. “Twenty-nine, I believe.”
She nodded with disinterest.
“Right,” he closed the file. “Also, we touched on the subject of alcohol and how that might be affecting the condition.”
She continued to stare off into middle distance.
The doctor sat down on the exam room chair. “I will have the nurse give you some pamphlets on proper care for you to read at home.” He paused and waited.
“Okay,” she finally said and looked at him. It was obvious he had something else to say.
“Jane, it is important you understand that what you have is not fatal, but it is chronic, and it will not go away on its own. With proper diet and staying completely away from alcohol …” his eyes flicked to her face, “you should see rapid improvement in your symptoms and should be well on your way to being your old self.”
“Okay,” was her monosyllabic response.
Dr. P glanced into the file again. “Ah, did we discuss the amount you have been drinking per day?”
“Yeah, we did. I don’t know for sure. Maybe a couple of beers a day at the bar.”
“Ah, couple of beers,” he studied the file again.
“Look, Dr. P.” Jane was starting to get defensive now. “I’ll follow your dumb plan. I can take the stuff or leave it alone. I’m not an alcoholic, for God’s sake!” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
“Oh, no. No one is suggesting anything.” He smiled at her warmly. “We just want you to get better. Right?”
Jane uncrossed her arms and let them drop into her lap. “Yeah, okay. Right. You’re just trying to help.” She folded her hands together and head down, examined them.
“Exactly,” Dr. P reached out and gave her arm a little pat. “We don’t want this thing progressing into … something … more serious.”
She jerked her head up to look at him.
He smiled again, affably. “Nurse will be in to give you those pamphlets in a minute. I’m leaving a script for those antibiotics we talked about. See you in about two months?”
She nodded her head, face down toward her lap again.
“Fine. See you then.” Dr. P opened the door and closing it behind him, dropped the chart in the metal bin next to the door. He hit the button for the nurse and walked away shaking his head.
Continued Part II
15 Wednesday Nov 2023
Posted Uncategorized
in≈ Comments Off on Jeanine’s Art
Jeanine Colini Design Art
Jeanine’s Nativity watercolor has been selected for the 3rd Annual Creche Festival in Houston, Tx.
Call/text 213.507.5825
Email jeanine@jcda.com
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/JeanineColiniDesignArt
Instagram http://instagram.com/jeaninecolini
05 Sunday Nov 2023
Posted Uncategorized
in≈ Comments Off on Fr. Antoine Poidebard – Part II
Books and written work
Books: The Syrian Desert with Rene Moaterde and Le Limes de Chaleis. (The Limits of the Roman Empire.)
Poidebard and Felix Marie Charles Moatti collaborated on the influential archaeological and geographic work titled “La Piste Oubliee: A la recherche des tresors de l’Orient (The Forgotten Path: In Search of the Tresures of the East).” The book was published in 1934 and documents their joint aerial archaeological explorations in the Syrian Desert. Poidebard, the aviator, and Moatti, the photographer, used aerial surveys and photography to capture the landscapes and archaeological sites of the Syrian Desert.
This work, often referred to as “The Forgotten Path,” is known for its pioneering contributions to the field of aerial archaeology. Through their aerial photographs and surveys, Poidebard and Moatti documented ancient Roman roads, fortresses, and other archaeological features in the Syrian Desert. Their research shed light on the historical significance of this region and provided new insights into ancient civilizations that once inhabited it. (Retrieved Internet 2023.)
“The Forgotten Path” remains an important reference for scholars and researchers interested in the archaeology and history of the Middle East and the application of aerial techniques in archaeological exploration.
Theories
Poidebard made significant contributions by photographing a number of abandoned Roman forts in the area. His theory at the time was that these outposts of the Roman Empire were to hold back invaders. Although, modern thought has come to deviate from those ideas. (Retrieved Internet 2023.)
The exact timeline and reasons for the Roman withdrawal from regions within Iraq, Iran and Syria varied. In some cases, the Romans voluntarily withdrew to consolidate forces and focus on defending core territories. In other cases, they were gradually pushed out due to military defeats and external pressures. The decline and fall of the Western Roman Empire in the 5th century CE (common era) marked a significant turning point, leading to the eventual fragmentation of the empire’s territories in the Middle East and elsewhere. (Retrieved Internet 2023.)
Cold War satellite images reveal nearly 400 Roman forts in the Middle East
By Ben Turner Live Science Magazine 10/23. https://www.livescience.com/archaeology/romans/cold-war-satellite-images-reveal-nearly-400-roman-forts-in-the-middle-east?utm_term=35FB7B5F-D6F0-4F8F-B
The photos, taken in the 1960s and 1970s by the first spy satellites, reveal that the eastern border of the Roman Empire was a place of vibrant trade.
Four roman forts captured in satellite photos by the U.S. military’s Corona project, which ran from 1960 to 1972. (Image credit: CORONA/Courtesy Jesse Casana/Antiquity Publications Ltd)
Declassified images from Cold War spy satellites have revealed hundreds of previously undiscovered Roman forts in Iraq and Syria — and their existence suggests the eastern border of the ancient empire wasn’t as violent as initially thought, a new study finds.
Researchers already knew about a series of forts — spanning roughly 116,000 square miles (300,000 square kilometers) from the Tigris River in modern-day Iraq to the plains of the Euphrates River in Syria — that were once thought to belong to a north-south border wall that separated the Romans from the rival empire of Persia.
But the distribution, from east to west, of the newfound forts along with those previously known ones, hints that they were built to facilitate peaceful trade and travel. The new study, published Thursday (Oct. 26) in the journal Antiquity, refutes a 1934 hypothesis by the French archaeologist and Jesuit priest Antoine Poidebard that the eastern fortifications were built to repel invaders.
“Since the 1930s, historians and archaeologists have debated the strategic or political purpose of this system of fortifications,” lead study author Jesse Casana, a professor of anthropology at Dartmouth College, said in a statement. “But few scholars have questioned Poidebard’s basic observation that there was a line of forts defining the eastern Roman frontier.”
Stretching across the deserts of Iraq and Syria, Poidebard discovered 116 of the second and third century A.D. forts after taking aerial photographs in the 1920s and 1930s. Looking at their placement from his biplane, which he learned to fly during World War I, Poidebard hypothesized that the square-shaped strongholds created a north-south defensive line that drove back raids from Parthians and later the Sassanid Persians.
Until now, Poidecard’s hypothesis was widely accepted by historians. But after analyzing high-resolution images of the region taken by spy satellites in the 1960s and 1970s, the researchers discovered 396 previously unknown forts or fort-like buildings that were sprinkled widely from east to west.
This suggests the border was more fluid than first thought, with the outposts existing not along the border but through it — protecting trade caravans as they ferried people and goods between Rome and the neighboring Parthian (later Sassanid Persian) Empire. The archaeologists say this raises an important question about the border: “Was it a wall or a road?”
The researchers say their study highlights the importance of declassified images in archaeological research — especially as many of the forts revealed in the photos have now been destroyed by agricultural expansion and urbanization. They expect more discoveries to accompany the declassification of other aerial images, such as those taken by U2 spy planes.
“Careful analysis of these powerful data holds enormous potential for future discoveries in the Near East and beyond,” Casana said. Archaeologist Poidebard sorting shards ( Bak 1928).
AERIAL ARCHAEOLOGY
Antoine Poidebard- Archeologie.culture.FR (retrieved Internet 2023.)
Jesuit missionary and explorer, Antoine Poidebard (1878-1955) settled in Beirut in 1925. Charged with mapping missions by the French mandatory authorities, he realised the extraordinary potential of aerial reconnaissance for recording archaeological data.
From the shores of the Mediterranean to the skies of the Levant (Middle East)
Provided with logistical support by the French airforce, he clocked up thousands of flying hours, mainly over the desert steppes of Syria, but also along the Mediterranean coast as far as Algeria and Tunisia. A highly talented amateur, Poidebard developed innovative technical processes and used strict procedures, paving the way for aerial archaeology as a scientific method.
Using art and technology for archaeological research
Antoine Poidebard’s archives are conserved in the Oriental Library of Saint Joseph University , which presents some of them in its virtual exhibition. It reveals the surprising conjunction between the rigours of scientific research and the artistic scope of Poidebard’s photographs, combining photography, aeronautics and archaeology. (https://www.usj.edu.lb/search.php?q=antoine%20poidebard) Universite Saint-Joseph de Beyrouth.
“Archives collected in the desert sand” 2016-2017 at the Laténium
In 2016-2017, an exhibition devoted to Antoine Poidebard, called the “Archives collected in the desert sand, from Palmyra to Cartago” was organised by the Laténium (https://latenium.ch/en/press-and-archives/exhibition-archives-old/archives-des-sables-de-palmyre-a-carthage/) (Neuchatel, SUI) to shed light on the outstanding aerial photographs taken during the interwar period by Poidebard in the Near East.
Leaflet | © OpenStreetMap contributors
SCIENTIFIC DIRECTION
Marc-Antoine Kaeser (Laténium)(Switzerland) and Lévon Nordiguian (University of Beirut)
05 Sunday Nov 2023
Posted Uncategorized
in≈ Comments Off on Fr. Antoine Poidebard and the Middle East
Fr. Antoine Poidebard and the Middle-East.
Courtney Webb
Antoine Poidebard; Lyon, France 1878 to Beirut 1955, (77 years) was a Jesuit priest and member of the Society of Jesus.
He developed the art of aerial photography by flying over Iraq, Syria and Jordan in a biplane in the 20’s and 30’s. His numerous photographs have been used to this day and he was able to discern differences in vegetation to show abandoned Roman forts and roads.
How and why was he there? The Mandate for Syria and Lebanon was established in 1920. Under this mandate, France assumed administrative control of the territories of modern-day Syria and Lebanon. However, the actual implementation of the mandate was met with resistance from local nationalist movements and populations who sought independence.
The mandate had been granted by the League of Nations to France after World War I. The purpose was to establish governments in area previously ruled by the Ottoman Empire.
Later, Syria and Lebanon were both granted independence from France in 1943. Poidebard was financially supported by various institutions to do research, especially in Syria. One of the significant sources of funding for his work was the French government. His archaeological and aerial survey missions were often sponsored by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the French Ministry of National Education. (Retrieved Internet 2023.) He received additional funding from the French Institute of Archaeology in Beirut and the French School of Athens.
map of the Middle East area
map of Beirut, Lebanon
The Aircraft
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=927r7wHOef4 (video about Caudron G.3’s)
The Caudron G.3 was a French reconnaissance aircraft widely used during World War I. Poidebard flew the Caudron G.3 biplane for his aerial archaeological surveys in the 1920s and 1930s. The Caudron G.3 was a French reconnaissance aircraft widely used during World War I. He learned to fly during the war and then created a way to utilize the aircraft for aerial surveys of archaeological sites in Syria and parts of the Middle East, capturing valuable photographs of historical sites and landscapes from the air. His pioneering work in this area significantly contributed to the understanding of ancient civilizations in the region.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kr4e23CarYY (more videos about this aircraft.)