The Band Amarillo
A Change Of Scenery • Dreamers
Three Line Conversations
A Change Of Scenery
“It certainly is different.”
“Most people freaked out when the world turned Black & White. Not you. Why not?”
“Well, the Andy Griffith Show was better in Black & White. I am giving it a chance.”
Comic
Look Up
Life is surprising sometimes.
Stock Photo Stories
The Band Amarillo
Mateo was the first member of the vocal band. He had the vision. He had the chops. He wrote the songs. His rich baritone would become a thing of legend.
Mateo recruited Matías next for his deep bass. Alejandro was a tenor with good looks that never hurt any band. Diego has a sunny disposition that charmed everyone. They called themselves Amarillo.
They practiced regularly until their harmonies were flawless. When they sang, their fans often swooned.
As their popularity grew, the group decided to do a huge outdoor concert. The band located a field large enough to accommodate their growing legion of followers. When the concert day arrived, the field was jammed with fans.
Bob and Sue Conrad were on their way to visit Sue’s sister. It had been four years, so they were due. As they drove down the road, Sue noticed a field full of sunflowers.
“Bob, look at those sunflowers. They look like they are watching something.”
“They do. That’s weird,” Bob said.
“Did you hear that?” Sue asked.
“What?”
“I could have sworn I heard singing.”
“Maybe it was the sunflowers,” Bob said and grinned. “How much farther?”
“Five miles less than the last time you asked.”
Stock Photo Stories give you the real stories behind the photos. That I might have made up.
Since this newsletter was a short one, I have included the first chapter of my three-book Baron Britpop Blastfurnace series. I am currently writing the third book here on Substack and would love for you to come aboard and sail with us.
Try chapter one (Silent Horseshoes.) It is short and fairly stand-alone. If you enjoy it, you can read the first two books right here for free. If you don’t, you haven’t wasted much time. I recently started writing the third book on Substack, so now is a good time to catch up. - Mark
Silent Horseshoes
As a young man, I was struck by unrelenting wanderlust and so ventured off to France. It was the most foolish decision of my life, and the best.
France seemed a practical choice for an adventure. It neighbors the Austrian Netherlands, which made it far enough to be exotic, but not far enough to be unattainable. Fortunately, I had ample means for my journey thanks to attaining the title of Baron at an unusually young age.
How I became a Baron is a tale worthy of sharing, and brief,
so I will share it now.
I am the son of a blacksmith, and like all good sons, I learned the trade of my father. One day, a merchant stopped at my father’s shop to have new shoes put on his horse. The man was particularly talkative and rambled on about several topics as I worked. Eventually, he introduced a subject that caught my interest.
He told me about his delivery of cabbage to the Royal Palace. And how the palace steward was complaining about the clacking noise horseshoes made on the cobblestone courtyard.
Emperor Joseph was visiting and was a notoriously light sleeper. Morning deliveries had to be carried across the courtyard by hand to avoid waking the Emperor. This slowed things down considerably and required a great deal of labor.
His rambling story caused me to think. Having recently acquired a gooey substance from the New World called rubber, I began to imagine a practical use for the material. I figured if I could coat horseshoes with the rubber, it would muffle the noise they made on the cobblestones. I knew I would have to heat the rubber to get it to stick to the horseshoes, so I cooked the rubber in my father’s furnace until it melted. I mixed in some sulfur and coated the shoes with the substance. It worked amazingly well.
As I was testing my invention, it began to rain. I soon discovered that rubber-coated horseshoes were slippery on wet cobblestones—a flaw that would likely lead to disaster. That was precisely when a flash of inventiveness I cannot explain happened.
It is well-known that waffles are a source of pride in Brussels. You are not considered a real citizen if you do not own a waffle iron. I took a heated waffle iron and applied it to the rubber-coated horseshoe. It created channels in the rubber that allowed the water to drain away and also provided traction.
It worked so well, I immediately rode to the palace and demonstrated them to the steward. He ordered several shoes and asked if I could coat wagon wheels also.
News eventually reached Emperor Joseph of this new quiet horseshoe. In his gratitude, I was made a Baron and given an estate out of the Emperor’s own holdings. The Emperor said it was a small estate of little importance. But to a blacksmith’s son, it was wealth beyond imagination.
With that bit of business taken care of, I will continue the tale of my adventure to France.
You can continue reading here:
Happy Monday. Thanks for reading and responding. You make it fun.
Mark
Note to self: If you move to Belgium, be sure to take a waffle iron along...
Went to an Andy Grammar concert last night. Your sunflower story so fits what I saw! Andy was like the sun with an audience facing him -- absorbing his sun-like energy.
Thanks Mark!!!