******* All American Frank *******

Our apartment-building got “acquired” by a law firm, so we didn’t know what to expect. One day a youngish, clean-cut lawyer came by and introduced himself with a strong handshake, tilted head and half smile. He quickly turned on his boat shoes and set off to his golf club. A week later, I heard my upstairs neighbor, a lanky college student, freaking out down in the basement. They’d installed pay-laundry machines to replace the free laundry ones. And my student buddy had jammed the mechanism, accidentally using a nickel in one slot, and was trying to force it, now using a hammer to try to get it in, or out. But mostly he was just hitting the dang thing! I was too late to salvage any semblance of “his innocent mistake.” He suggested busting it open completely, but instead I proposed we check out an old washing machine in the back of the basement. We carried it over, hooked it up and, in a moment of magic, free laundry was restored. We moved the pay one near the stairs, perhaps a friendly hint that the pay ones should go, and free ones come back.. We still paid quarters, for the dryer, until one day I noticed the quarter-box was loose, and it pulled right out. I found I could remove quarters from it, re-insert them, and recycle them right back into the box. I’d then shove the box in, so it looked normal. I denied that this whole thing was starting to look bad. About a week later, I heard another freakout down in the basement. This time it was the landlord. I peeked out the window and saw his BMW in the driveway. I stood very still, and didn’t answer the door, as he stormed up and down the stairs knocking and pounding, breathing heavily. After he left, I paced, in a panic, then popped a cold beer to chill. The next Monday, a large, working class, blue collar guy came by and hooked up the Fort Knox of new, shiny, impenetrable, pay laundry machines, like two soldiers, standing stout and defiant! After a little tug on the immovable, tight pay boxes, a gliding hand along the smooth chassis mounts and an eye on the glint of bevelled edges I knew my low-rent wiles should be used to acquire more quarters, admire these sleek crafts of commerce, kick back a bit, and let capitalism take this round..

Bunch of guys in Maine go ice fishing, and one invites a geology professor from the college. They are standing around the hole they’ve cut, and one says the ice must be two feet thick. The geology professor tells them, “You know, back in the ‘glacier days,’ the ice here was more than a mile high.” They look up and down, think it over, and finally one says, “A mile high, huh?.. But just over the lake, right?”

Tell someone a 100%, absolutely, true story.. no one will believe a word of it. But tell a preposterous made-up fable, imagined purely from your mind, devoid of any facts.. and folks will conclude it must be true! (:.. ps- fact and fiction, they are the devil’s brew! While my buddy’s fav expression was – “that’s no word of a lie”.. and man, he could spin a yarn! “Not buying it, sir.”  – concludes the master, Bill O’Reilly

When I worked at the greyhound race track, I liked the sound of metal on metal as the mechanical hare swung around the track on its rail. Just like us, chasing the American Dream, the dogs will run as long as they can see the rabbit. The operator has to adjust the hare’s speed, so all dogs have a clear view. Rabbit too slow, front dogs see it’s fake.. rabbit too fast, dogs in back lose sight.. and stop running!

For a while I hit a poetry open-mic, which welcomed original songs, but I would also try my hand at poetry, in a magical-realist style. This poem is about telling a beautiful woman she is your “muse,” and her telling you she is not!
I Lost All My Poems by frank martyn
I lost all my poems
that I kept in my jacket pocket
because I lost the jacket
with my car keys in it
and walked
until I was too drunk to walk
I saw you riding on top of the bus
you pulled me up
and found the poems
in a locket around your neck
tiny pieces of paper
dotted needle points
All the poems about you
butterflies escaped your lips saying
I am not your poems
silly
that can’t be
poems cannot be love
love is big and
more than enough
poetry is what we say
if true it
flies away
nothing is gone
that’s the cost
poetry is always lost (:

A banjo and accordion duo gets a surprise gig, playing a house party on New Year’s Eve. The homeowner loves it, and asks if the two will play again, in one year, on the following New Year’s Eve! The duo is excited, but has one small request.. “Is it OK if we leave our instruments here?”

I did a few jazzy piano gigs with a “Coleman Hawkins style” Sax player, and one time he tricked me into booking a bar where he’d been banned. When I arrived he was already arguing heatedly, with the bartender, and his nemesis bar-buddy, generally “rubbing all their noses in it.” He could not be thrown out he claimed because, by right, he was officially booked. The bartender didn’t agree, but was stuck, saying, “Fine, then, get to work.” His bar-buddy called out, “Good, I hope you guys make a million!” The Sax player mumbled over his shoulder, “Yeah, a million mistakes..” And true to his word, with every wrong note he hit, intentional or not, he shot an elbow-point toward his rival.

I was just inside the door of the Last Call Saloon when I saw a scuffle near the stage. Three large bouncers muscled through the crowd and emerged holding a very thin gent, high in the air, as if floating above. He had a “help me” look, in his eyes, as he was launched out the door.. At that point, a woman screamed, “That’s not the guy!” The 3 bouncers pushed back toward the stage, and returned this time carrying a much larger fellow, whose crazed-look left little doubt.. he was “the guy.” The dazed, thin gent wandered back in and out, several times, expecting something to happen, but the bouncers averted their eyes, pretending they couldn’t see him..

Not all family traditions are trusty treasures.. like waiting ’til it’s “hot enough” to put the air conditioners in! phew.. LOL

Due to a series of lucky breaks and administrative errors, I was accepted to play college football my freshman year, as wide receiver. It was a ridiculous blast, although a “one year and out” proposition. Occasionally, we’d party “as a team,” and I noticed something.. The prettier the girls at a party got, the stupider the guys got. I mention this only because I see a similar trend happening in cable TV news, as women news anchors get continually more and more attractive! (: