At the Crossroads

Tom Hanks in Castaway, about 1.5 minutes

Hanks is figuring out where to go next. He is superb.

Walking on some streets and sidewalks, I have found myself totally lost. At an intersection where nothing is at all familiar has dropped me in a confusion hell. Where is North or South? East or west? God, please help me. 

Facing decisions like that are scary and I always wondered about all those crossroads humanity has faced and abilities challenged..

Ralph Macchio vs. Steve Via

Cy  Cooder played for Macchio; Macchio is admired for his mime skill.

The final battle, about 5 minutes long. Watch the final minutes if you don't want to see the whole thing.

This movie is Crossroads, a loose story telling of the legendary Robert Johnson where he supposedly sold his soul to the devil in order to have success as a musician. This movie follows the journey of Willie Brown who has done such with his friend Eugene Martone, a classical guitarist at Julliard. Martone saves Willie Brown by offering to play against lead guitarist played by Steve Vai.

Steve Vai practiced for a year to learn how to play badly at the last scene. It was awesome. 

And just for the heck of it, here are two other Devil Gets Your Soul movies:

Charlie Daniel's epic violin and Devil Went Down to Georgia

about 3 minutes long.

Talented musician

Mick Jagger, Sympathy for the Devil

About 8 minutes long

Rolling Stones have put their stamp on this.

No one can beat it.

These performances hang about in my mind even though I am lost at intersections sometimes. My husband usually rescues me, and God provides for me. God holds my soul and heart. Devil does not hang at my intersections.

We are back from Cow Chipping County and had an amazing time. My brother is special to me. We scooped up some cow patties, laughed, ate catfish, and shared our memories. Good times.

Please let me know about crossroads you have had.

Green Grows the Grove

“These trees are old, really old, Aunt Celia!” Buddy whispered to the elderly lady holding his sweet hand.  “They’s older than you, even!”  He skipped to a hidden tune.

“Yes, little boy, I know they are old,” she mused, smiled down at the intense face.  “They were old when I was your age.”

His surprised face turned to laughter as he pictured this old woman skipping.  “Then you know all about the ‘sterious dis’pear’nce of Miss Cassandra!”

“Yes, my dear Buddy, but you tell me all about it, will you?”

Buddy flew into the story of the missing Cassandra, a story handed down to each generation.  Celia hid her chuckles as Buddy threw pirates and ghosts into the simple recounting of a young lady who ran away on eve of her wedding with her fencing instructor, and her “’sterious dis’pear’nce”.  “You reckon Miss Cassandra’ll ever be found?”

When Buddy finished the grand story, both were exhausted.  “Come, little man, let’s rest here a while,” Aunt Celia indicated a bough leaning to the ground.  She perched on the lowest bend, just as Buddy’s dog came bounding by.

His question unanswered, Buddy took off after his pet.

Great-Great-Aunt Celia gazed at the ground beneath her feet, knowing that just a few feet below lay Miss Cassandra in her wedding dress. Oh, well, Cassie. These things happen. You should never had trusted me.

Celia smiled. Life has been good. 

This is photo prompt from Delores in 2012. I think this is from Atlanta, GA.

Walking Strong

Source

On the island of βrju Vindúr, life was defined by directions of three winds. A treacherous wind blew in from the ocean, while bitter cold wind swept down from mountains.  Winds from valleys sneaked in over green hills, blasting unexpectedly.

One gust at a time would have been acceptable, but usually two or three gusted through the town of Bakkafjörður all at once.  Merely walking up or down a street necessitated clinging to a wall, or hanging on for dear life on a ship rope strung along streets. 

Needless to say, villagers were noted for exceptional muscular development.  Even so, none could walk up or down streets without assistance.  However, one man had this skill, and he mocked other villagers as he strolled along, hands in pockets, posture straight. His blonde hair waved as winds blew and his muscles bulged. He was gorgeous and he knew it. 

Eiður was such a man.  No humility existed in him.  Pride emanated off him. Oh, how villagers grew to hate him.

He had the chance to leave the island on a ship off-loading goods, ready to on- load sheep and wool for export.  Hopping aboard, he waved at villagers who wished all sorts evil to descend upon him.

Eiður returned after a month with big smiles and stories to tell.  But he had no idea that a month away from three winds had changed him.

He stepped off the ship and was immediately thrown to his hands and knees.  Trying stand up, Eiður found himself again creeping like a dog along streets to his house.  He could not stand.  He could not pull himself up on the ropes. 

From there on, Eiður moved from one spot to another, crawling.  Villagers watched him.  Justification was theirs.

Company of Heroes

This story is strictly metaphorical. Pride does go before a crawl.

No such island exists in Iceland, altho there are many other amazing islands and landforms! It is on our "Let's go.." list.  My apologies to the native Icelandic speakers. No insult was intended.

We will be heading to visit my brother in Cow Chipping country for a few days. Please leave comments if you can (even though I won't respond) simply because I enjoy hearing from you.

Sjἁumst sἰðar  See you later.