Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Survive the Summer with Songs

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music from noise

I grew up listening to The Captain and Tennille singing about “Muskrat Love” and The Carpenters warbling “Sing of good things, not bad. Sing of happy, not sad.” I believe those two songs were solely responsible for the rise of heavy metal bands and for Black Sabbath’s song “Electric Funeral” about nuclear annihilation. It’s all about balance.

To survive this summer of irritating noise, make music an important part of your life. Turn off the news and listen to tunes that inspire, soothe, and tap dance through your mind with promises that the political elections will end in November. At the stroke of midnight on December 31, you’ll take a cup of kindness yet and sing “Auld Lang Syne” with the eager passion of a professional soloist despite knowing that when the sun rises you won’t be able to carry a tune in an empty punch bowl. But for a brief moment, when the year is new and full of untainted potential, you’ll become a soulful crooner for all the ages, sharing your song with the universe.

Your challenge is to keep the music playing long after the confetti is thrown into the garbage, the bills are past-due, and prosperity is still elusive. The late comedian George Carlin said, “It’s called The American Dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.” His acerbic humor nailed it. How can you sing a joyful song when life keeps dumping junk on your head? Maybe you’re unemployed or in a lousy job, or you haven’t had any loving since 2008, or your dog ran away. Look on the bright side – you could write Country Western songs!

happy sad music

Music and mood are closely interrelated — listening to a sad or happy song alters your moods and has the ability to change your perception of the world around you. For example, gothic metal music makes me want to destroy something with a chain saw, while a classical aria causes me to (almost) levitate with elation. In a stressful situation, a little dose of “Walking on Sunshine” could be all it takes to relieve the tension.

Here are some exercises to prove that music alters your mood. Imagine seeing and hearing the following scenarios:

You’re struggling in the steaming jungles of Vietnam as you hear the foreboding song “The End” by The Doors as played in the movie Apocalypse Now. Then you’re drinking alone in a dark bar as a Billie Holiday impersonator croons “Gloomy Sunday.” You claw out of a deep depression only to hear Kansas singing “Dust in the Wind.” By now you should be wallowing on the floor, sobbing in anguish about the wretched world.

Now, pretend you’re twirling on a panoramic Austrian mountain meadow singing “The Sound of Music” with Julie Andrews. You’re even wearing a summer dress with a festive apron. Then transport yourself to a sunny beach listening to the jaunty tune of Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Finally, turn up the volume on Chariots of Fire or Rocky. Yo, Adrian! Are you smiling yet?

musical notes

No matter what festivity, calamity, or horror show blaring on the national news, you should have a song or two ready to suit the occasion. It’s healthy for the lungs and cleans out the debris in your mind if you warble a  popular song in your shower or drive along attempting to harmonize with your favorite collection of jaunty music featuring barbershop quartets. Add it to your bucket list this summer to make your own music to help you survive until the end of the year.

Don’t worry if you’re unsure about writing a song. Remember the immortal lyrics of that famous song by The Captain and Tennille that rose to #4 on the Billboard Charts – “Now he’s tickling her fancy, rubbing her toes. Muzzle to muzzle, now, anything goes as they wriggle, Sue starts to giggle.” That song includes synthesized sound effects simulating muskrat copulation. Yes, you can do better!

The Wisdom of Irish Taxi Drivers and Bartenders

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taxi driver dublin

“Why are all the Americans mad as a box of frogs?” David asked as he drove from the Dublin International Airport to my hotel. “I don’t understand all the vitriol. The waste of time is biscuits to a bear.”

“I agree with you,” I replied as I rummaged for a pen and notebook to write quotes from the taxi driver. “I’ve been writing that sentiment for more than a year. I try to balance all the garbage with humor.”

“Ah, so you’re a writer lady,” he chortled in a delightful Irish brogue. “Don’t you know most of us are cut to the bone – that means fed up – with all the drama over there.”

“Not all of us are angry or depressed,” I assured him. “I’m proud of my country and am convinced we’ll survive the current chaos.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re not in tatters about politics. And I trust you’ll be seeing the favorite pubs of the famous Irish writers?”

“Yes, I’m going to the Temple Bar to find the table where James Joyce used to sit,” I responded. “And, then to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to see where Jonathan Swift is buried.”

“Don’t you forget Oscar Wilde. There’s his statue near the park.” He pointed to the monument as we neared my hotel.

The 30-minute drive with David was a treat because of the nonstop commentary about politics, writers, pubs, and his love of his native Dublin. We arrived at the hotel and he offered a few more words of advice.

“Have a good craic and enjoy a pint of Guinness,” he said and added a serious tone. “And watch for pickpockets at The Book of Kells and shysters who will try to sell ya the eye out of your head.”

I appreciated his concern and noted that he didn’t judge the fact that I was a woman traveling alone. I thanked him, paid the 22 Euro fare and added eight more for the tip. He said we were best friends and shook my hand with the fervor of a long-long cousin.

“I’ll never make it to the States,” he said as he got back into his taxi. “But, I’ll be watching for happier news. It’s silly for friends and family to be doin’ a number and destroyin’ relationships over a political situation that constantly changes.” He drove away, and I acknowledged another memorable taxi ride.

Temple Bar Dublin

In my travels, I enjoy talking with local people I meet along the journey. They always have the best stories, advice, warnings, and opinions. Next to taxi drivers, the bartenders offer the best conversations. After checking into my room and grabbing a walking map from the front desk, I ventured onto the streets of Dublin. I found the Temple Bar and slide onto a stool at the bar.

A young woman named Elise came over and I ordered a ¼ pint of Guinness.

“That’s but a baby size,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like a big girl’s portion?”

I laughed with her and explained I wasn’t much of a beer drinker and after the obligatory taste of Irish beer would switch to red wine with a cheese board and a bowl of olives. She poured my beer and wine and set the glasses on coasters in front of me. I drank the beer first and then sipped the wine.

“It’s early and the crowds won’t start coming in for another hour so you have the bar to yourself,” she said. “What brings you to Dublin?”

I explained that I was spending the weekend by myself in Dublin after traveling on a week-long tour with Wayfinding Women. We had visited several spiritual sights including the Hill of Tara and Glendalough as we studied Celtic spiritual traditions.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Elise exclaimed as she pushed some wayward red curls from her face. “Did you see any fairies or goddesses?”

“I believe we experienced some of them,” I answered, truthfully.

Elise hurried to the kitchen and brought back a platter piled with cheeses, olives, and dense brown bread. She implored me to tell her more. I explained that I had been on a personal journey to deal with the recent deaths of my brother and mother. I also led writing discussions with the other women on the tour.

“I’m delighted to meet you,” Elise gushed. “I’ve seen plenty of Americans in here wailing about your political whankers and muppets. But you seem beyond all the olagonin’.”

“What’s that word,” I asked, reaching for my notebook.

“It means moaning and complaining,” she answered. “Maybe it’s because the United States is so young the country is hitting the rebellious teenage years. Our rugged Irish heritage has survived for thousands of years, and we’ve reached the wise, old ancestor stage. Maybe we’re luckier than you are.”

James Joyce in Temple Bar

Patrons began filling the bar, and many were eager to find the bronze statue of James Joyce. I had a favorite quote of Joyce’s and was waiting for the perfect time to use it. The time was appropriate.

I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women.
From selected Letters of James Joyce about his wife Nora

Elise laughed out loud and dashed off to chat with the noisy customers lining the bar. When she brought my tab, she took my hand and thanked me for being a happy American. I thanked her for the important lesson about Irish heritage.

As I walked back to my hotel, I thought about the conversations with David and Elise. They joined the long list of fascinating and wise people I’d met throughout the years. In their honor, I was determined to return to the States and not become a whanker in a box of angry frogs.

Photos © Elaine Ambrose 2018

The Domestic Humorist Challenge

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Theater Masks

Last November, social media exploded into a regurgitated cesspool of vicious vitriol oozing like a toxic stew of vomit. It was worse than my first date in college. I attempted to balance the negativity by posting at least one humorous or positive meme every day, supplementing with witty blog posts. After seven months and more than 200 daily memes, I’m done. Readers are on their own.

I hope the memes have caused a few smiles on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest. My Instagram account was hacked and deleted, but I still have the other accounts. Before I totter off to the sweet solitude of writing, I’d like to offer The Domestic Humorist Challenge, as opposed to the popular but irritating and dangerous Domestic Terrorist Wanabe collection of reckless writers on social media.

In my opinion, some of the despicable comments border on domestic terrorism and anarchy. This post came through my Facebook page last week:

From a woman named LauralLynn writing about President Trump: “I have stayed away from the news, in hopes they will just throw his ass to the wolves…literally, throw his ass into a cage of wild wolves and let them feast.” She added a smiling face for accent.

In my opinion, such a comment only fuels the flames of contempt and chaos. The remark did nothing to promote a positive attitude of comradery and community that is needed to strengthen the foundation of a civilized society. With every snarling comment, we’re getting closer to living in the final sequel of the Mad Max movies.

 

mad max mel gibson.jpg
Max with the Feral Child

(Interesting trivia: To prove that riveting dialogue wasn’t a key component in Mad Max 2 – The Road Warrior, Max, played by actor Mel Gibson, only has 16 lines of dialogue, and his first line wasn’t spoken until 11 minutes into the film.)

The Domestic Humorist Challenge. To neutralize the eruption of domestic terrorists on social media, I’m offering the Domestic Humorist Challenge. It’s more fun, and no one gets shot. The challenge comes without multi-level marketing pitches, selfie portraits, or obligations to forward a message or suffer from infected boils on your butt.

Here are the suggested rules:

  1. Review the messages you’ve written and liked during the past few months, and note the balance between complaints and praise.
  2. For the next week, don’t post, like, or forward any negative comments on your public social media accounts. This may require opening a private snark account with you as the only recipient.
  3. Write and post positive or humorous remarks that add value to readers and contribute to constructive action. Sneak in some gratitude. Just try it, ye of little faith.
  4. Block or unfriend those who continue to vomit vicious words and memes on Facebook and Twitter. Did a nasty meme or screaming stranger ever change your opinion about anything?
  5. At the end of the week, evaluate your mood. The goal of this challenge is for you to feel better about what you’ve written and for more people to contribute something positive or funny. If you relapse and have a shaking desire to post several hostile messages about anything (including politicians, kale salads, or feral children), go back to Step 1.

Some serious facts: The US Patriot Act defines domestic terrorism as the result of a US citizen attempting to do something that is dangerous to human life in our country. The government has identified at least 15  domestic terrorist organizations and that doesn’t include individuals. A website regularly records incidents of domestic terrorist attacks, going back to the assassination of President Lincoln in 1865 and updated this week with the attempted murders of Republican lawmakers in Alexandria, Virginia.

With that much hostility, it’s no wonder we’re all crabby and slightly paranoid. We’re living in a Greek Tragedy that only Shakespeare could appreciate. It’s time to fight back (in a non-threatening way) and become a Domestic Humorist. Who wants to play?

Finally, here are a few of my favorite memes from the past 200 days:

adam emily christmas overall meme

 

parsley sage meme

grow up meme

 

olga meme

ran into ex meme

 

bertha bra meme

 

 

food face meme

 

bertha flip bird meme

studley meme

frame meme

Oh Say, Can You See?

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USA in flag

At the twilight’s last gleaming, I finally arrived in Manchester, New Hampshire for the annual conference of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. The journey from Eagle, Idaho covered 2,400 miles in 10 hours and almost reached from sea to shining sea. Throughout the day, I read news of the latest political hysteria from the nation’s capital and relished my detachment at 30,000 feet.

flag new hampshire.jpg

Finally in my hotel room, I opened the windows and saw the United States flag, flying proudly, as a strong reminder that despite all the ridiculous rhetoric and divisive sabotage among inept leaders on both sides, biased and corrupt reporting from some of the media, and bombastic accusations from a volatile public, somehow we remain in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

American author and storyteller Mark Twain once said, “Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to government, when it deserves it.”

In my opinion, some of our government leaders are incompetent and don’t deserve our respect, but our country offers the best design through our brilliant and incomparable Constitution. We’re hanging on by the threads of the broad stripes and bright stars through a perilous fight, and if the Constitution is discounted, the red rockets’ red glare and bombs bursting in air will come from outside oppressors and internal anarchists that easily divide our country with the goal of defeating and destroying the United States of America.


In 1804, political grievances didn’t take years to resolve. Aaron Burr, the Vice President of the United States, and Alexander Hamilton, the former Secretary of the Treasury, resolved their differences through a duel with pistols. Hamilton lost. I’m not suggesting that politicians should shoot each other, but maybe they all could be transported to a private island stocked with treasure chests full of gold and booze. The country would get along just fine. Citizens who didn’t vote or couldn’t describe the Constitution would be sent to the island to forage with the politicians. Imagine a combination of The Hunger Games meets Survivor on Gilligan’s Island.

gilligan's island.jpg

The gallantly streaming flag once flying with defiance over the ramparts will fall forever if we don’t stop the heated arguments, incessant bitching, public condescension, and vile vitriol. We are better than this. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you hate or love the current president. I want to know what you are doing to improve the current crisis in our country. Someday this president will leave office, just as his predecessors did, all with varying degrees of success. Then what? Should we continue to scream in the streets, destroy property, hate our neighbors, and unfriend our friends while wearing offensive costumes, or should we take up the flag and join other patriots to salvage any hope for another July 4th celebration? I wish to remain positive and will order some piccolos and drums.

I’ll wake in the morning and open the windows in anticipation of seeing Old Glory, with proof through the night that our flag is still there. That star-spangled banner will wave back.

For a free reminder, here is the first verse of our National Anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner by Francis Scott Key:

O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Why I’m Proud to be an Idahoan

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lisa kidd stanley lake

This week a few disgruntled people mentioned on social media that they were ashamed to be Idahoans. I’d like to remind them that Idaho is bordered by six states and one other country, all within a day’s drive. Do they need gas money?

I’m a third-generation Idahoan, and some of my distant relatives walked here on the Oregon Trail. They never whined and moaned that they were ashamed to be pioneers. They kept walking, settled in the territory, planted crops, raised livestock, taught their children how to work, and built strong communities. They were proud to be self-sufficient, and celebrated when Idaho became a state.

Many residents now complain about politics, education, religion, women’s rights, and any new “It’s not fair!” grievance that offends them. I’d like to share a hearty meal of Idaho beef, mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables, huckleberry pie, local wine, and some words of wisdom with them.

Politics. People move to Idaho from more liberal states to take advantage of the low cost of living, the family-friendly communities, the low crime rate, and the exquisite natural beauty of the state. Then they complain about the politics.

To them, I say don’t blame the politicians; blame the voters. If you want more progressive candidates, run for office or aggressively support other candidates. I’m irritated when perpetually-offended people in search of relevancy block the streets and yell in my face. I’m impressed when someone intelligently promotes a candidate or an important issue that earns my respect and my vote.

Education. I grew up in the farming village of Wendell with no opportunity for pre-school or kindergarten. I finished in 12 years and graduated from the same high school my parents graduated from 24 years earlier. I received a scholarship to the University of Idaho, graduated in four years, and began a successful career. Working during summer and spring breaks helped pay for college, and I finished debt-free. My children attended schools in Ada County and now are productive taxpayers, and my grandchildren, 5th generation Idahoans, attend local schools.

I willingly pay annual property taxes and thousands of dollars of my tax money are designated for education. So far, I’d like a better return on my investment. Throwing more money at education is not the answer. I advocate intensive training for parents to help them better prepare their young children for school and life. It’s not the responsibility of the schools or the teachers to raise children. Their purpose is to educate students to become well-rounded, self-sufficient adults.

Religion. I grew up as a Presbyterian in southern Idaho, and the predominant religion was Mormon. They were my friends, and we co-existed without anyone getting beheaded. I’ve visited Muslim countries, and I appreciate their culture but I wish more local Muslims would condemn the horrendous atrocities committed by evil people who distort the Islamic religion.

Idaho suppresses women. I support education and opportunity for women, and I’ve been the victim of discrimination. But instead of hollering about the system, I worked and was rewarded. I was Idaho’s first full-time television news reporter and talk show hostess, an officer at Idaho Bank & Trust, and a manager at Boise Cascade Corporation. By being productive and professional, women in my generation helped break the glass ceiling for younger women.

It’s not fair! Get a grip, Buttercup. There always will be those who are richer and poorer, those who succeed with little effort, and those who work hard and fail. It’s not fair that my friend, an avid health advocate, died of breast cancer at 40. It’s not fair that my father received a transplanted liver that had cancer and killed him at age 60. It’s not fair that I’m older, and my knee hurts, and my hair is falling out, and younger women seem to have it easier than I did. What’s fair is that we all woke up this morning and have another day to choose to be productive and happy.

Get to know Idaho. I’ve lived in Wendell, Moscow, Twin Falls, Boise, McCall, Eagle, and Garden Valley. Each place has wonderful citizens and a few assorted jerks. I’m convinced that if we avoid the trap of organized outrage and get to know each other, the state and the world would be better places.

This week I drove through the Sawtooth National Forest from Ketchum to Garden Valley. The magnificent vistas included rugged mountain peaks, lush meadows bordered with rustic log fences, and eagles soaring over tumbling rivers full of melted snow. This breathtaking reality proved why I am proud to be an Idahoan. Here are some photographs of our glorious state taken and copyrighted by my friend and former Wendell resident Lisa Kidd. (View her work at http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/lisa-kidd.html.)  If these reminders don’t convince some people to love Idaho, my gas money offer is still available.

lisa kidd flowers

 

 

lisa kidd water

 

 


 lisa kidd sawtooth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Midlife Cabernet – Sucked into the Sewer of Political Pomposity

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One of the many advantages of living in the last third of life is that I don’t accept crap from anyone. I wasted valuable time during my thirties and forties posing as a pleaser, forever scampering around to ensure that everyone was happy while concurrently fighting manic hormones that were yelling at me to break something. Now, like a fine wine aged to perfection, I just don’t give a rip.

Facebook periodically presents a trap that I fall into if I’m not vigilant about keeping my comments sassy and humorous. Earlier this week, an associate who just happens to be a politician made a comment on Facebook. I added a factual statement that provided an alternative opinion. Holy Hot Flash! Suddenly, strangers wrote comments suggesting that I was stupid and wrong. One challenged me by name to check my facts. Another threw in an entire paragraph of questions and demanded that I answer them. These hostile comments received “like” comments from other strangers who don’t know me.

Of course, feeling threatened, defensive, and unjustly attacked, I wrote and posted an excellent rebuttal that factually substantiated my original post. Then I waited. No one “liked” my rebuttal. Obviously, nobody wanted an intelligent debate. Sigh. So, I decided, once again, that it is impossible for some groups to engage in civil discourse and show tolerance for diversity of opinion. I removed all my posts to this person, un-friended the one person I knew who “liked” the attacks on me, and placed a hammer on my desk. I taped a note on the hammer that reads: “Use this to hit head instead of making another political comment on Facebook.”

Now that I’m liberated from being sucked into the verbal sewage of political pomposity, I am free to open a bottle of 2008 Alexander Valley Cabernet Sauvignon. This delightful wine combines a tasty blend of Cabernet, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Malbec, and Petit Verdot, and is available at Seasons Wine Bar in Eagle for around $40. It’s my fabulous, mature choice to sip good wine instead of argue with strangers.