Sybil Bruncheon's "Tales & Tails"... Millie

Millie had started out as most urban kitties do, abandoned very early in life by a neglectful mother either too drunk or too busy with gentlemen-callers (or both!) to raise her litter properly.……Although Jacob Riis photographed her at one of the most dire times of her young life, Millie’s natural beauty shone through, and brought her enormous notoriety in all the gazettes of the day. Society matrons flocked to her neighborhood near the dank and dangerous slum known as Five Points in an attempt to “rescue” her and be seen as the “great philanthropists” that wealthy citizens found to be the most fashionable hobby.

Millie did indeed go on to a very comfortable life, but she nevertheless became an inveterate thief of people's personal property… It started out with small unimportant objects; pieces of string, a paper clip, rubber balls, coins, things left on dressing tables....You know the type! But then she began to raise the stakes… and the consequences. The police couldn't trace her crimes for years because there was no rhyme or reason to them... a rubber band on Monday would be followed by a $2000 earring on Wednesday. What she couldn’t carry off to her hide-aways, she’d simply knock off the edge of tables in an off-hand sort of way, usually when no one was looking, but sometimes right in front of them!

Finally, the authorities tracked her down...she had holed up in a seemingly abandoned paper bag….but her rustling gave her away. As they closed in, she leapt out at them in one final burst of surprise scaring the crap out of all of them. Yowling triumphantly, she escaped and was never really caught again...although there were reports for years that she could be seen lying on other people's desks, pillows, sweaters, bathmats, open romance novels, fashion magazines, dress patterns, gentlemen’s “French Calendars”... you get the idea. She could, on occasion, allow the unwary to scratch behind her ears and compliment her on her lovely whiskers as she did her bathing. Reportedly she was very well loved in spite of, and perhaps because of, her life of narcissism and mischief. …..She had private accounts at Luchow’s, Tony Pastor’s, "21", The Stork Club, The Russian Tea Room, The Rainbow Room, oh, all over..... Of course, she never paid her bills, but they kept seating her anyway…. And at the best tables!

She lived to the ripe old age of 22, although she lied about her age till the very end, claiming she was only 3 or 4. She might have lived longer, but she was killed in a motor car accident of her own making. Her friends had warned her not to drive herself, but she insisted, even though it was very difficult for her to see over the steering wheel of a Duesenberg, and a stolen one at that! She was laid to rest in a very expensive cigar thermidor of carved mahogany with her favorite lobster fork and a brass door knocker in the shape of a pineapple. Her many kitty friends delivered hours of eulogies in the alleyway behind Bergdorf’s …at the top of their lungs…. And the nice people at the Plaza Garden Court Café catered the luncheon… (Other diners were heard to complain about the yowling.)

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Tales & Tails"... SOON!

Pixie, a formerly friendly kitty who lived at 2242 Maple Grove Blvd. suddenly began having strange notions. Talking to herself, hiding cheap costume jewelry but leaving expensive items in place, eating vegetables but rejecting sardines and even caviar, trying on hats, lip sticks, etc., etc. Everyone noticed, but hoped it was all a passing phase...something that was quite innocent! It wasn't until that awful night in late November, when Pixie had taken down a cleaver from the cupboard and hid in the sheers in the parlor waiting for kindly old Matilda the housekeeper to meander by... and then the screams, the terrible screams.... the carnage!.... and then all the reporters prying, prying, prying into the crime, the photographers and the flashbulbs...and the scandal.... the shame of I.F.M.!!! (Inherited Feline Madness!!!). Look!!! There in the curtains!!! Behind you!! IT’S PIXIE!!!!! …oh God, NO!!! Pixie!.. NO!!!…

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My friend, Leigh Gannon, shared this poem with me: "Nothing Is Too Small Not to Be Wondered About" by May Oliver...

The cricket doesn’t wonder if there’s a heaven

or, if there is, if there’s room for him.

It’s fall. Romance is over. Still, he sings.

If he can, he enters a house

through the tiniest crack under the door.

Then the house grows colder.

He sings slower and slower.

Then, nothing.

This must mean something, I don’t know what.

But certainly it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been an excellent cricket all his life.

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LITTLE GISELLE...

.....to be a gypsy in those days was to wander the countryside appearing in county fairs, carnivals, and village festivals of questionable repute. Little Giselle had come from a long line of fortune-tellers, clairvoyants, phrenologists, palm readers, and crystal ball gazers... She herself was considered a prodigy and possibly a savant in her ability to hear a customer's birthday (day, month, year!), and their birthplace, and, without a globe to check longitude and latitude or any sky charts to check for astronomical details, she could perfectly recite their zodiac profile... all the planets, aspects, conjunctions, rising signs, the trigons and trines, everything in a chart that it would take the average astrologer a week to diagram on paper, she could do in her head in seconds.

And, even if the client was a skeptic and didn't believe in astrology, Giselle could then astound people with their subtle personality details, the hopes, the dreams, even their fears. Her family and the extended "family" of the other travelers in the caravans and carnivals would whisper and nod sagely whenever little Giselle would walk into the communal tents for lunch, often alone as her parents knew that she was old, wise and very old for her years, which numbered only six.

Everyone knew she could handle herself with great dignity and composure. And at a time of greater innocence when children were less likely to be harmed by strangers, and when families watched out for each other's children more aggressively, no one worried about her independence.. It was in this world that Giselle, (Giselle Barund-Keelikov), wandered off from the encampment one afternoon in early November when the chill had started to settle in on the world of the open road and the lifestyle that was lived there.

The morning frost had reluctantly given way to the grey sun that fretfully wandered low across the horizon and was already promising to disappear behind the leafless trees to the West, and at 4:30 in the afternoon! Parents were folding up their trade carts and novelty-wagons a little earlier...the clouds were rolling up and some of the older folks could "smell rain", possibly in the next hour or so.

Visitors to the sad little carnival had been few and far between, and many of the gypsy families were already planning their yearly trek down to the Southern towns and villages for their warmer weather and cheerier atmosphere. Giselle had been seen sitting with her bowl of sweet turnip chowder and her beloved butter-crackers that Widow Crentski made especially just for her. A few of the older men tipped their caps to Giselle, giving their respects to her parents, or conferred with her about important matters, a cow's successful calving in the Spring, a possible match made between the tinsmith's son and the saddlemaker's daughter...

When she was finished, she paid the nice lady the correct amount of money and left the proper gratuity which her parents had carefully educated her about. She smiled and nodded to the other diners. She thanked the wife of the candy-maker who complimented her on her nice hat, and then moving out of the tent with a short glance back over her shoulder, she was never seen again...

A local miller was questioned by authorities several weeks later who claimed that he'd seen a little girl sitting on the roadside, perhaps on the day in question, he couldn't be sure. He remembered that she seemed to be conferring very seriously with a dog and a horse... he was sure he heard her elaborately discussing something about the stars and the "constellations" (a word he recalled from a scientist who had visited a pub and told fascinated listeners about over several tankards of ale). Oh, and one other thing too... he heard the little girl say the words "pegasus", "can us major" or something like that, and that she was very "serious" about it all. She would pat her animal friends as she chatted, looking deeply into their eyes, and the miller remarked that the dog and horse seemed to be listening intently and appeared to be deep in thought.

The authorities were somewhat impatient with him and asked why he didn't speak to the little girl, especially since she was unaccompanied on the open road. Why didn't he question her, or find out where her family was... he paused, looked down for a minute and then said without irony that he didn't think it was his place to interrupt what was clearly a serious conversation. Didn't she use the term "serious" over and over in the few sentences he heard as he passed by? Didn't she point at the sky and then trace an arc of some sort from the South East to the North West and then point first to the dog and then to the horse...?? What could it all mean.

He told the inspector that he wanted to stay and listen.. Though only slightly educated and forced to leave school as a teenager, he had always been fascinated by wiser people, and the little girl seemed to be very, very wise... strangely so. Was he at all concerned that she might have come to harm being alone on the road, accompanied only by a dog and a horse in the gathering twilight as the sun vanished and the first stars started to twinkle in the dusky East?... "No.", he said and smiled. "There are souls here that move among us with a journey of their own... we are mere watchers... and we should stand aside as they pass."

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Sybil Bruncheon's "TALES & TAILS"… A Mother's Day Tribute : MISS HELGINA GWATHMOOR.....

Miss Helgina Gwathmoor had never been considered a great beauty... or even a middling beauty. As a child, her devoted parents (who adored her!) had to admit they were grateful that little Geena's personality, charm, humor, and great loveliness towards every living creature she ever met more than made up for her lack of comeliness. When other little girls were picking out their favorite gingham dresses for the school picnic, Geena was busy heading the refreshment committee and making sure the cucumber and watercress sandwiches were perfection...that the pink lemonade was tart, and the vanilla ice cream had actual vanilla orchid seeds sprinkled through every luscious scoop. And she was only 8...!

At 13, as a member of the National Girl Guides, when other girls were busy flirting with boys at the rugby and lacrosse contests, she was in charge of rolling bandages and running the first aid stations on the sidelines, or cheering them on to victory! At 17, when young ladies were thinking of proms and cotillions and glorious gowns that would only be worn once for each enchanting occasion, it was their good pal Geena who'd be crawling around at their feet pinning hems and attaching flowered trims or staying up all night sewing and finishing the alterations so everyone "looked just so!" Geena was so constantly busy with so many different projects that her twenties started slipping by before anyone actually noticed that she was single. There was no time for "courting and wooing" as her adoring grandmother would say as Geena would whirl through the room chatting and laughing, her arms full of blueprints for an animal shelter, or bolts of fabric for the new curtains for the community playhouse, or two dozen teddy bears for the children's hospital ward. Geena's grandma had been a great beauty herself as a girl, but she had been wise as well, and her brief sadness for her little granddaughter faded as she saw what Geena was growing into. And all her elderly friends marveled at Geena's "unsinkability".... it was as if she was made of cork, her Aunt Delia would say. Old Mabel Cravers marveled that nothing seemed to defeat or discourage her!

And so the years slipped by.... Geena gave everything, shared everything, held hands, joined in the laughter, wiped away the tears, consoled, congratulated, and celebrated, cheered and cherished the lives and loves of all those around her. Their journeys and adventures became the threads in the most wondrous tapestry....and one that she treasured, was honored by, and humbled to have had. How lucky, she thought! How lucky I am to have had my OWN wonderful adventure.... with all the wonderful people in it.

Helgina Gwathmoor was much beloved by one generation after another. Other women's daughters and granddaughters and great granddaughters all knew her and loved her. ...as did their sons, and grandsons, and great grandsons. They were brought to her as a matter of course in their births, their christenings and upbringings, their engagements and weddings, and on and on. She lived to be 103.... or maybe more. No one knew. The facts of her own life had slipped away long ago.... and she was remembered and revered as a reflection and an illumination in the lives of all those who were lucky enough... even to have known her.

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Holiday Reminder!... A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT FROM P.E.T.A…

… is YOUR pet safe from the dangers of OVER-celebrating?"...

The heartbreak of alcohol abuse in the modern pet household... Does your pet drink privately when you're at work??... Have you ever seen your pet casually brush things off kitchen counters while staring at you... or pretend to read the newspaper, and then eat it?... Does he or she hide stashes of catnip or old smelly socks under sofas, in cardboard boxes, or buried in houseplants?... Does your four-legged friend cry inconsolably during broadcasts of the Westminster Kennel Club show... or old Nine Lives commercials??... Does your pet secretly entertain OTHER pets in your home when you're away on vacation, possibly while wearing a coconut brassiere and a grass skirt?... Have you found livestock-nudey magazines, kitten calendars, cassette tapes involving barnyard sounds, or OTHER pets' collars in YOUR underwear drawer???... Has your pet begun to wear make-up, very subtle at first, but gradually tending towards evening make-up for just a simple walk around the block in the morning?.. and finally lipstick way outside its lip line? These are all warning signs of the lonely downward spiral of pet-substance-abuse... don't let shame or "magical thinking" keep YOU from helping your loved one!!!! Act now!!!!!! Dial P-U-S-S-Y D-R-U-N-K today! That's right! Dial 787-793-7865....There's no time to waste!!!...

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Sybil Bruncheon's "HEADLINES FROM AROUND THE WORLD!"... Thawing Out!

Spring Weather Update – Moscow, April, 2019: ...and today in the news, even as relations between Russia and the US seemed to be freezing over, Trixitina, the much-beloved circus bear lumbered out of her cave at the Moscow Zoo, and spontaneously began to play what sounded like Stravinsky’s "Rite Of Spring" on a harp standing in the snow. The sight and sound of her playing Igor Stravinsky (with surprising accuracy!!) was enough to draw an ever-growing crowd and finally, Vladimir Putin himself. The Russian president, moved to tears and paroxysms of religious ecstasy, called President Trump and immediately set up a face-to-face conference to rekindle the cooperation and friendship between the two great powers.

Trixitina's playing continued on through the day to greater and greater acclaim, and Spring itself seemed to descend on the city causing flowers and trees to begin blooming in a riot of leaves and colors more reminiscent of Paris or Holland than of chilly Russia.....

It wasn't until feeding time later in the evening that a Mr. Maslo Arakhisovoye Sendvich, the lead harpist for the Minsk "Tippy-Toes" Ballet Academy for Earnest Boys, was reported as missing!!!....and that his penny loafers were found near Trixitina's water bowl.... The next morning, a passing musicologist revealed that the bear was not playing Stravinsky, but was in fact just "banging on the harp.... and scratching it rather badly, isn't she?"... Mr. Sendvich has not been found... as yet...

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