Bald Eagle Birth (Hornby Island British Columbia)

Bald Eagles are long-established as a symbol of freedom in many places around the world, where this majestic bird has made its way onto flags and crests throughout history, I’ve said “if I were ever to be re-incarnated I would like to come back as a Bald Eagle”.

When I see them soaring high from my window here in Victoria or anywhere on the Island, I always stop to look, and I always feel like I’m being treated to a special moment, a moment that demands great respect. If there are other people present they to, always stop, to pay homage to this noble bird, no doubt we are all having the same wonderful experience…

Now you can watch the live birth of two Bald Eagle Chicks in their nest on Hornby Island, where a local resident has placed a webcam right above them. Enjoy...

Posted By: John Ellis

Published by: Music Borders
www.musicborders.com

Hotel Rendezvous (Slippery Night Creams)

One bare bulb lit the main entrance of the dilapidated building, which needed a fresh coat of paint, the crumpled paper in my hand coincided with the name above on the plastic awning; "Hotel Rendezvous". I had found the wrinkled notepad in my pocket earlier as I was happily going about my day. But here, a gray foggy tinge loomed in the atmosphere, rather like the opening scenes to an offensive horror picture or a bad dream, but curiosity has been liable for sullying countless happy days...

Once inside I found myself in a dark dimly lit corridor, bare plaster, cracked walls and an unloved smell about the place. I had a menacing feeling of being watched and followed, which turned out not so far from the truth. First one person appeared then another, I could feel them just behind me and it was making me very nervous, hurrying along they kept up, and as I approached apartment 114 one of them dodged in front of me quickly knocking on the door. My heart was racing and I could feel my pulse right through my clothing as the door slowly opened. I stepped back out of sight and the two people pushed thought the doorway, I wondered why there was so much interest in visiting my wife's room, I looked again at the name on that piece of crumpled paper, I had read it correctly. Lydia, room 114.

Not really understanding what was going on I suddenly sensed that I was not expected to be there; the feeling of jealousy building up in the pit of my stomach forewarned me of my natural impulse, and I was frozen in the spot. Only a few seconds had passed but now I was frantic and pushing my way into the hotel room, only to find two older looking men laying on single beds and my wife struggling to explain. Well, as you can imagine I felt the sudden compulsion to thump and kick, and not listening to the desperate pleas of innocence coming from my significant other I left my angry mark on the festivities and stormed out.

I was very surprise to find the police waiting for me as I ran from the building, almost as if it was all predestined, the next thing I knew I was standing before a judge. I could clearly hear the magistrate from where he sat, on his priceless leather seat, a stoutly well fed fellow full of the best intentions and not fully appreciative of my bloody outburst in the hotel room, and also disregarding my rage of passion as a defense. After a thoughtful look and clearing his bacon lined throat coughed up his decision. "There are no good reasons for acting like you did", he said, "and although you claim to have been caught up the passion of the moment, caused by your wife's infidelities, it is nevertheless an inappropriate measure". It was all a candid eye opener for me, a real awakening from my nightmare. Six months in the lock-up is what I had to show for my rampage, me, I'm the guilty one, and it's up to me to pay the debt to society.

Today I'm cleaning the latrines and to look at me you would only see contempt on my face, up to my neck in crap leaves me to count unlikely blessings. A comforting visit from my estranged wife gives me hope; her beautiful smile fills me with confidence. Further visits produce total forgiveness and the touch of her hand reduces the rest of my time to the bare minimum.

The next thing I know, I'm on my way to see my loving wife, still reeking of time spent and cloths to bear out the wholesome services performed during my incarceration. Not a pretty sight but with a squint of one eye I feel more like I'm back from the war, a hero maybe. However, the closer I got the dirtier I felt and as I arrived at the Convention Centre I became more and more alienated from my resolve. Catching site of myself in the glass didn't help matters either and it was obvious to me that I was still an outsider in my wife's world, here she's meeting with her equals, the dress code was somewhere between tiara's and midnight mass, not the place for the likes of me I thought. Uncomfortable as I was the excitement of surprising my wife was far too overwhelming to resist, and after confirming her room number with the front desk I continued through the lobby and into the elevator.

Surprisingly I ran into an old friend and his family, they were so glad to see me, I even got a nice hug from their children. "Its great see you", they said. "We haven't seen you for ages", I was more focused on my devoted wife being so close, I could only think of the tender reunion waiting for me upstairs as I left them behind in the elevator. It seemed like forever as I walked along the corridors, running into more people I knew and getting more directions to my wife's room. Time seemed to slow the closer I got, making me more anxious and aware of myself. The hero returns in rags I thought to myself, and it became a struggle to walk. She wasn't in her room when I got there so my search persisted, again running into everyone else I knew but not Lydia, where was she?

Ted seemed to appear out of nowhere, "hey, how-ya-doin", he said with a nervous chant. Where's Lydia? I asked him, I'm having a hell of a time finding her. Well Ted was never one for pulling punches, I've seen her with Duncan the last couple of days, "Duncan" I said, are we talking about the same Duncan? I joked, "yes we are" he said has he glanced nerviously at the ceiling.

I don"t remember the following series of events that well, but I do recall my heart pounding, a quickened step, clenched fists, tight lips forming every curse word ever known, frantic searching in dark spaces, Duncan's frightened face as I closed in, Lydia's fruitless cries of innocence as I finally caught up with them. What can I say, it was a real nightmare; my life was no longer worth living and I no longer cared, the horror of a reoccurring theme became overwhelming to the point of rage, I just lost it. It was time to do the honorable thing again, and defending my wife's virtue was becoming second nature to me, of course I would forgive her but her secret admirer, my old friend Duncan would have to pay the going rate for his sins. I tightened my fists...

I suddenly awoke in a panic, sweat dripping down my neck and the bed sheet wrapped around me like a straight-jacket, the bedroom blurred through my startled eyes. As I looked around I slowly realized it was really only a dream, a very bad dream but only a dream. Lydia lay sleeping peacefully beside me, her face reflecting an innocence reserved just for angels. The fluffy down quilt pulled right up to her pink shiny nose, curlers in her hair, no make-up, what a treasure she was. Just then she knowingly rolled over to face the other way and I thought how appropriate, now I get to look at the backside. It's funny really because I felt I had to apologies to her for doubting her love, it was just a dream, my dream but I felt terrible for it. I stood up and went around to her side of the bed, but there wasn't much of her face showing between the sheets, so I decided to fluff them up. I always like it when she takes the quilt and top sheet and wafts them, filling them with the cool morning air; it feels so fresh and extravagant when she does it so I thought I would do the same for her. I noticed a little curl in her lips as she slept and mistaking it for some sort of acknowledgment I decided to give her a little kiss and a squeeze, it uncurled her lips to the upside down variety. Rejected again, this time with me in awake mode, just great, after my nightmarish trivial pursuit I get cast off like an unwanted old boot.

I stood back and looked at her and I though to myself, go back to your dreams my treasure, you deserve my old friend Duncan, nobody ever liked him anyway so you're welcome to him. I hope he loves you, especially with your curlers and your slippery night creams...

Written by: John Ellis
Published by: Music Borders
www.musicborders.com

Johnny Cash Tribute "Hey Johnny".

It was Yorkville Avenue around 1968 when I first heard Peter McBurnie (ala Orbit Starr) sing his new song "Hey Johnny", a tribute song to Johnny Cash. I always looked forward to hearing new songs from Pete because it energized the whole street, you could feel the excitement whenever he made the scene.

We were all fans of Johnny Cash and this was a great way to pay tribute to one of our hero's. I started singing the song myself and have included it in my own repertoire on many occasions through the years and my audiences have always been very enthusiastic, but it was always the Country fans who were especially drawn to this Johnny tribute.

Now that there has been a renewed focus on Johnny Cash through the recently released film portraying his life's work, I thought it appropriate to publish this never before released tribute song for all Johnny's fans to hear. It was always Pete's dream to play this song for Johnny personally but it was never to be, Nashville can sometimes feel like a world away when you're an unknown from Small-town, it's too bad because I think Johnny would have liked it.

Time has a way of creeping along, sometimes without fanfare, but we did get one chance to record this Johnny Cash tribute in 1981, along with three other McBurnie originals. It was for our own enjoyment really, but there was also a feeling that we might be able to find the right place at the right time with it. Unfortunately we didn't know anybody in the right place and we certainly didn't know the right time, whatever that means. Still we have the recordings and you can listen to them all at the Music Borders website listed below...

In the meantime have a listen to "Hey Johnny"

Article by: John Ellis

Published by: Music Borders
http://www.musicborders.com/

Will Millar (The Keeper)

Will Millar (pictured here with John Ellis)

Still keeping us charmed with "The Keeper" after all these years, a conversation with the prominent Celtic voice of North America "The Celtic Connection".

The Millar tradition began in County Antrim, in Ireland, where his grandmother Liza-Jane was a "Sheanachie" or village story teller. It was her tales that fired up Will's imagination.

The top ten international hit "The Unicorn" catapulted Will Millar and "The Irish Rovers" on an extraordinary 30-year career, and during the heyday of their success Will always made sure there was a spot on the show for children, both on stage and television. His TV leprechauns delighted a generation of kids young and old, many of whom are now parents themselves and are rediscovering an old family friend. With three children of his own Will had a ready audience for his imagination. "I made up the most fantastical stories to put them to sleep and sometimes, they would continue over three or four nights... mermaids, goblins; it was just a storehouse of things I had in my head. I knew that my kids passed on these stories at school and I can see where they continued our family tradition".

It was two weeks of magic and laughter here at Melodeon Studios when Will arrived with a couple of dozen children from the local school (his back up singers) in tow to record his latest CD. "The Keeper", and with familiar songs like "The Unicorn" you can only imagine how this recording session went. Will also included songs about our environment and the animals. Even the theme song "Sailing In The Bay" for the new proposed television show "Set Sail" was included in the session. "The messages in this album are about self esteem and things that children do for themselves, like looking after each other or the environment. There's no preachy stuff. You don't preach to kids", Will say's. The CD released on the Attic label will appeal to the child in all of us".

"I think no matter what profession I would've been in, I'd have worked with children. It's no coincidence that virtually every success I've had in my career is a direct result of my work with children. I honestly do think sometimes that this was always meant to be my life's work."

"The Keeper" was produced by Will Millar & John Ellis, the theme song "Sailing In The Bay", music by John Ellis lyrics by John Ellis & Will Millar.

Article by: John Ellis
Quotations from Will Millar & "The Celtic Connection"

Published by Melodeon Muse
http://www.musicborders.com/

Manchester United Air Disaster (Flight BE609)

Manchester United (Old Trafford)

You’ve heard similar phrases before “Where were you when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon?”, “where were you the day Kennedy was shot?” I recall another event that raises a similar question, “where were you the night Flight BE609 went down? The night of Manchester United’s plane crashed in Munich?” It was February 6th 1958 and I was only fourteen years old at that time...

I was at the Stretford Youth Club on stage for my debut performance; we had formed a Skiffle Group for the weekend dance but had no instruments, making us one of the very first performers to lip sink to a recording, Lonny Donagan (The King Of Skiffle) as I remember. Mouthing the words and jumping all round the stage to such great songs as "Cumberland Gap", "My Old Man’s A Dustman", "Rock Island Line" and the longest song title of them all, "Does Your Chewing Gum Loose it’s flavour On the Bedpost Over Night". I’m sure we all looked like proper idiots but everyone was having so much fun it didn’t really matter, who cared; we had no cares...

I’ll never forget the horrific news, it left the football world reeling from the loss of its most talented young players, and it marked the end of the Busby Babes. Tommy Taylor, Roger Byrne, Liam Whelan just to mention a few of the players to loose their lives that night, Duncan Edwards (Pictured Above) fought for his life for fifteen days but finally succumbed to his injuries on the 21st February 1958.

Someone had pushed through the doors of our youth club yelling erratically, I couldn’t hear at first but it didn’t take long for this news to travel all around the room. There was total disbelief, girls crying, boys crying, I was close to tears myself after I heard it but I held them back for some reason, it was like Flight BE609 had crashed right into the building we were in.

The dance was over immediately, we all kind of wandered off, like zombies with no direction. This was the most shocking thing for me in my short carefree sheltered lifetime, innocence was shattered like glass into a million sharp splinters; a kid with no cares suddenly had one, a big one. I would never see my favourite team play ever again, I would never cheer for Duncan Edwards or hear the crowd roar, it was a sad sad time and I will never shake those painfull images. I used to be able to hear the crowd roar (every time they scored a goal) from my house on Blenheim Rd in Firswood, only a stones throw from Old Trafford. I never went back to United's grounds after that and later that year we immigrated to Canada.

I can never forget that night, every time I watch a soccer game I think of it. The memory of this tragedy has faded in and out over time but never altogether and when I do stop to remember, it all comes flooding back like it were only yesterday…

Written By: John Ellis February 6th 2006

Photograph: Duncan Edwards

Posted By: Music Borders
www.musicborders.com

Benjamin Franklin (East Meets West)

Written By: Luba Dvortsova.

Boston of old remains the highlight of my trip to the US, and as I wandered around the Quincy Market I was transported back to a place and time long forgotten. I remember I had just been walking through old Boston and Paul Reveres house so I was primed for a ghost sighting or two.

Today’s Quincy market encompasses quite a large area and the restaurants, shops and office building are well disguised behind their early eighteenth century facade. Strolling inside the main center building I seemed to walk even deeper and deeper into the past, thinking how long this market has been in existence. A quick stride across the old cobbled market square and up some stairs, put me into the antiquated Faneuil Hall, where oil paintings of prominent Americans surrounded the inner walls of this old town meeting place. I even stood at the podium (not without a stiff glare from the security guard) where all these historical characters had stood before me, I was trasfixed, and it was there I watched Benjamin Franklin open the door. At first it seemed quite natural but this character was out of his time and as he walked across the meeting room floor he crossed into my time period and greeted me with a huge infectious smile.

“Hello”, he said, “my name is Benjamin Franklin”. Well you can image how shocked I was, even though I'd been half expecting a ghost all afternoon, but to actually meet one was too much for my delicate heart to endure. In a nervous reaction I blurted off the top of my head, “Hello”, my name is Alexandria Fyodorovna Romanova, wife of Nicolas Romanoff Tsar of the Russian Empire”. It was my way of countering his surprise entry into my unruffled world. I was very impressed by his reply though, in broken Russian, as he went on to talk about his knowledge of Tsar Nicolas and how nice it was to meet me, his elegant wife. Benjamin stayed in character never admitting that he was trapped in the twenty first century as we both talked of days past and I never did find out who was inside that beautiful costume.

This was a very interesting meeting for me, and I will never forget our chance meeting, I'm sure that if you were to visit the old Boston Market you to may have a similar encounter with this American icon, wandering Faneuil Hall "Cradle of Liberty." This was where Samuel Adams, Ben Franklin and others had voted to turn back the ships to England without unloading them, some cargoes rotted other shipments were destroyed—ala, the Boston Tea Party...

Written By: Luba Dvortsova

Bublished By: Music Borders
http://www.musicborders.com/