I’m over the moon giddy ’cause ol’ Maybelle’s gonna be telling stories over the summer in the Echo newsie paper in Holyburton, don’tcha know. That’s right. And there’s nothin’ I like more than telling real stories about real people right here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean.
Why just the other day Bogart decided to take up piano lessons. That’s right. Somehow he got it in his head he wants to be a lounge singer, and figures if he kin akkompany himself while he’s singin’ Frankie Sinnatra toons, he kin get a lot more jigs, uh, gigs.
Well, it hurt me to half to tell him bears don’t sing in lounges, but he said everyone will want him to. He’s gonna put a video of himself playin and singin “I did It My Way” on YouTube, don’tcha know.
Mama Maybelle, he said, it’ll be a big virus hit and everybody will want me. I’ll even get to be on the David Letterperson show.
Bogart’s not just a furry face, don’tcha know.
Well, I was a-wantin’ to get Bogart into that little picture with me, the one that’s goin in my newsie paper column, don’tcha know. But he’s too big and it’s too small, so it’ll just have to be ol’ Maybelle and my hair.
And taking that picture became a real community project around here. After all, it’s not like ol’ Maybelle has her picture taken every day. What should I wear? A hat? Dungarees? Birkenstox? Hiking boots?
Wait a minute, I thought. Wear whatcha always wear, Maybelle. You’re tellin about what goes on here, every day-like, so keep yer overalls on, sit in front of yer microphone where you do yer radio show (in my cottage kitchen, don’tcha know) and just be natural.
But I’ll tell ya it didn’t happen that easy. Why my good friends Vilma Yuccch and Sybil Beaucannon Hughes came over here re-arranging my hair, puttin’ me in hats and outfits the likes of which those skinny models in Vague have never seen.
Well, if Beanpole Starkman didn’t keep flyin’ his Tiger Moth biplane in circles over my cottage like he was expecting ol’ Maybelle to be hatched all brand new or something.
And just as Vilma was puttin me in shiny white vinyl disco boots and Sybil was a-sprayin my grey hair PINK… there was a big pounding at my door.
Well, if Twindle Mumbly and Officer Stanley Penelope McBottom didn’t show up to watch the specktacle. Twindle brought binnoculars for a real close look, and some Frankie Sinnatra records and a bust of Lootwick Van Beethoven for Bogart. Officer McB brought popcorn and a big nervous kiss for Vilma.
Well if my heart didn’t bubble up like pancakes on a griddle…the way my friends were there to help me and Bogart.
It’s like that here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean. Friends do what they kin to keep each others wheels turning and dreams a-spinnin.’
That turned out to be the most wonder-full thing of all. To know that and feel that. And to remember that, especially when the folks you love kin also make you crazy sometimes.
Yep. We’re all perdy rich in this community … with friends.
Nightie night. Maybelle