Marriage, Melody and Mischief
The Second Note in the Life of a Northland Musician
by
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I slipped into a coach window seat on the passenger train, clinging firmly to my little bag of personal toilet items and a small suitcase of essential, only, clothing. After sliding my baggage above the seat into a scanty rack and stashing my personal tote bag on the floor between my feet, I pondered the decision I had construed to leave Duluth and live with my Grandparents in San Gabriel, California, a suburb of Los Angeles. I was terrified! I had never traveled farther away from the farm in Bruno than the forty mile trek to Duluth by passenger train or Greyhound Bus. L.A. was halfway across the United States. Just pondering over the three-day coach journey impelled a huge lump in my throat. My hands were sweaty and visibly trembling. The journey involved switching trains in Minneapolis and again making connections in Omaha, Nebraska. Union Pacific would take me most of the distance. I had never felt so scared. So alone. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea! To go and live with my grandparents.” I mused, thinking “It’s such a long way from family, friends and the insignificant little employment at Quality Cleaners, where I had grown to feel remotely secure and on paydays, abundantly kid-wealthy, with my $23 dollar weekly payroll check.” “Well it’s too late now!” I thought, as I kicked off my shabby frayed loafers. I had squeezed a shiny penny into each little top pocket for extra luck. The fare had cost me a humongous $43.75 from my “kid-wealthy” savings, leaving me not too “kid-rich”. I had opted for a round trip ticket, so it was apparent my inner subconscious had pragmatically endorsed approval of change!! Round trip tickets were good for six months. However, my funds were too meager for the $81.25 and silly me! Wasn’t I going for the long haul anyway? I was Broke!! It was imperative I would need to seek employment in California, and soon! After switching trains in Minneapolis, with a brief lay-over, I resumed viewing the telephone poles slip by rapidly from another window seat. With tension fading and my stability adjusting to the circumstances, I adjusted the seat slant and laid back only to discover hunger pangs were squeezing, growling and clutching at my nerve wracked tummy. Readjusting to an upright position, I reached for my tote, fumbling in the contents to retrieve a bag of sandwiches and cookies Mom had improvised for me in the early morning prep of my trip. “There’s a Dining Car.” the passenger next to me remarked, as she observed my casual lunch come into view. “Maybe tomorrow.” I replied. “My Mom fixed a lunch for me for today.” “It’s real nice in there,” she continued. “It’s very clean and there’s a lot of choices. I ate there before. There’s also a Café Lounge car.” “Oh,” I mumbled as I munched my lunch. “How could I go there and do that?” I thought, in silence. “How could I find the way? I could follow someone, I s’pose.” Yes I was a scared farm kid, with no experience and even less courage. It was scary enough just making this trip, let alone to wander about the different cars. The restroom was as far as I cared to venture. Rolling along over mountainous terrain, I was awestruck!! The train would lose momentum on upgrades, climbing, climbing, and then gain an accelerated rate of speed on the descent. I was mesmerized. We ascended and descended various mountain ranges on rails. The scenery tickled my senses and was liken to nothing I had ever embraced in reality. Sure, I had viewed mountain scenery in books and movies, but that was just not the same. I took deep breaths in awe as scenic panorama flashed by. “How incredible!” I thought, but then the terrain was soon ambushed by ebony darkness and visibility became null. Day had transformed into night and my mind had diverted to thoughts of slumber. There was no pajamas ceremony, of course. I just lowered my coach seat into the lowest possible position and proposed to sleep in my clothes. The journey consisted of three days and I compromised sophisticated hygiene to abiding in my soiled, wrinkled wardrobe with only a sudsing of face and hands to suffice in the trains’ public lavatory upon each awakening. And all this while I was over
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About the Book
Dottie Lou in her SECOND Note in the life of a Northland Musician reveals an emotional, incomprehensible reality, when her music career clashes with Marriage. She discloses how perpetually they fail to compliment each other.
She embraces intrigue and indepth into the infectious temptations, the ultimate pitfalls, but not without abundant humor, the many nonsensical days of Wine and Roses that permeates the behind the Limelight scenes of the entertainment world, blending the silly with the serious.
Tender sentiments and the sometimes risque glow of passion jump from the provocative pages of penned relationships.
And from her pen emerges, with poignant concern, the traumatic anguish of her children as they cope with the unexpected death of a parent.
About the Author
Dottie Lou Bolme has been writing and singing her entire life, making her debut at the ripe old age of eight in a school production and her first poetry published in the paper when she attended third grade.
She was born Dorothy Lorraine Knapp in
Dottie has appeared on many talk shows, TV specials and radio. She was a column writer for Midwest Music Magazine,
Dottie dabbles in crafts, taxidermy, and gardening, all self taught. She loves to write and has penned a couple dozen short stories and hundreds of poems.
Dottie resides in Poplar,