Carnival Chronicles: Step Right Up: The Colorful History and Legacy of Conklin Shows

There’s something undeniably magical about a carnival. The lights, the music, the scent of funnel cakes in the air—it’s a world that’s equal parts nostalgia and excitement. For me, carnivals hold a special place in my heart, sparking childhood memories of wandering through midways, clutching a cotton candy stick in one hand and a ride ticket in the other. And at the center of some of my many memories stands a giant in the carnival world: Conklin Shows.

My story with Conklin Shows begins back when my family made the move from Mobile, Alabama, to Pace, Florida. Our closest fair was the Pensacola Interstate Fair, where the rides came courtesy of Gooding’s Million Dollar Midways. But back in Mobile, Conklin Shows had taken over the Greater Gulf State Fair after the collapse of Century 21 Shows. My sister and I were convinced Mobile’s fair had the better lineup (because sisters always know best, right?). Little did we know, both fairs featured iconic rides that defined the carnival scene in their own ways.

Over time, as I started to dig deeper into the carnival world, I realized Conklin Shows wasn’t just any carnival company—it was the carnival company. And their story? It’s nothing short of amazing.
The tale of Conklin Shows starts in 1924 with two brothers from Brooklyn, New York: James Wesley "Patty" Conklin and Frank Conklin. Patty was the kind of guy who could turn a bag of peanuts into a carnival empire—literally. By the age of 14, he was selling peanuts to make ends meet. But Patty had bigger dreams. When he entered the carnival business, he made a promise to himself: he was going to clean up the industry’s shady reputation. With his slogan, “Give the sucker a break,” Patty earned a reputation for fairness and honesty that was almost unheard of at the time.

The early days weren’t without their quirks. In 1920, Patty teamed up with Speed Garrett, hitting the road to small prairie towns across western Canada. Their main attraction? A giant sturgeon. Sure, it sounds impressive—until the sturgeon started to smell so bad it scared off customers. But setbacks like these didn’t stop Patty. By the time the Conklin brothers secured the midway contract for the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) in Toronto in 1937, they had turned their modest operation into a real contender.

The CNE was a game-changer. It’s one of the largest fairs in the world, and landing its midway contract solidified Conklin Shows as a leader in the industry. By 1941, they operated at 98% of Canada’s major fairs. Their success was built on innovation and efficiency: Conklin Shows ran a 45-car train decked out in bright orange, carrying 15 feature attractions, 21 rides and over 700 performers and crew. Patty himself traveled in a custom-built five-room railcar that was basically a mansion on wheels. Talk about traveling in style!

Patty Conklin wasn’t just a businessman—he was a visionary. He was one of the first to introduce Kiddieland, an area designed just for kids and he wasn’t afraid to invest in unique, permanent attractions. For example, at the CNE fairgrounds, Conklin Shows built rides like the Mighty Flyer, a wooden roller coaster that thrilled visitors from 1953 to the early 1990s.

When Patty passed away in 1970, his son Jim Conklin took over and continued to grow the company. Jim didn’t just step into his dad’s shoes—he built on his legacy. By the 1980s and 1990s, Conklin Shows had become North America’s largest amusement company, known for its lineup of extraordinary rides. One highlight was the Doppel Looping, North America’s only traveling double-loop roller coaster, imported from Germany. This massive coaster needed 28 trailers to transport and was a showstopper at fairs like the Calgary Stampede.

But like any good carnival story, Conklin’s tale isn’t without its ups and downs. By the late 1990s, the entire industry was feeling financial strain. Conklin Shows began selling off iconic rides like the Skywheel, Zipper and the Spider to cut costs. They had also begun to phase out independent rides and other operators what would book in their own rides alongside Conklin. By 2004, the company was sold for $100 million and merged into North American Midway Entertainment (N.A.M.E.), which today supplies rides to over 145 fairs, including the CNE and the Dade County Youth Fair in Miami.

Conklin’s legacy didn’t end there, though. Spin-off companies like World’s Finest Shows and Conklin Supershows carry the torch today. World’s Finest Shows, based in Ontario, is still a huge presence, serving over 60 fairs each year and continuing the tradition of safety and quality that made the Conklin name famous.

Looking back, I can’t help but smile at the memories of actually knowing that I had experienced Conklin Shows at one of the highest points in their existance—and I was just one of the millions of people who shared in the experience. Whether it was the thrill of the Polar Express, the smell of fresh popcorn or the glow of florescent and turbo lights of the the midway, Conklin made the carnival experience unforgettable.

What about you? Do you have memories of Conklin Shows or another favorite carnival? Maybe it was your first time riding the Ferris wheel or winning a stuffed animal at a game booth. I’d love to hear your stories, so drop a comment below. Let’s keep the spirit of the midway alive, one memory at a time.
And hey, if this story brought a little joy to your day or reminded you of your own carnival adventures, feel free to support keeping these stories alive. Your contributions, big or small, help ensure the magic of the midway lives on for future generations. Thanks for being part of this journey—we couldn’t do it without you.

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Ray Bradbury’s Beloved Typewriter: A Journey Through Creativity and Inspiration

Let’s dive into a truly fascinating story that takes us behind the scenes of one of the most celebrated literary minds of our time, Ray Bradbury. Today, we’re not just talking about his work—we’re uncovering the tools that brought his stories to life. Welcome to a cozy little corner I like to call “Typewriter Story Time,” where the unsung heroes behind your favorite books get the spotlight they deserve. So, grab your favorite drink, and let’s get inspired!

Ray Bradbury's 1947 Royal KMM wasn’t just any typewriter; it was a window into his boundless imagination. Bradbury famously said, “You must never think at the typewriter—you must feel,” and he truly lived by those words. Above this very machine, he had a sign that boldly read, “Don’t Think!” It served as a daily reminder to let his creativity flow without letting his intellect interfere.

He spent decades crafting over 27 novels and story collections, more than 600 short stories, and even plays and screenplays. The man was a creative force of nature! This typewriter, now part of Steve Soboroff’s collection, might’ve played its part in creating the dark and whimsical Something Wicked This Way Comes. Can you imagine what tales this vintage beauty must’ve seen?

What’s certain is that Bradbury had a lifelong love affair with typewriters. His journey began at the age of 12 when he got his very first machine, setting him on a path to a literary legacy. A fun tidbit? He wrote Fahrenheit 451 on a rental typewriter in UCLA’s Powell Library basement. With kids interrupting him at home and no budget for an office, he paid 10 cents for every half hour of use. The grand total? Just $9.80 for one of the most iconic works of American literature. Talk about a return on investment!

But that’s not all. Bradbury’s love for libraries was just as intense as his relationship with typewriters. He often credited libraries with shaping him as a writer. In his words, "The secret of writing was to go and live in the library two or four days a week for ten years." Books, ink, and the hum of typewriters—these were his tools of the trade.

Here’s another cool fact: this very Royal KMM starred in a documentary film shoot about Bradbury’s life. He even offered it up to recreate scenes from his earlier years. Today, it proudly resides in Soboroff’s collection, waiting to wow visitors in the Tools of the Trade exhibit. If you ever wondered what fueled Bradbury’s magic, well, here’s your chance to see it up close and personal.

Until the exhibit opens, I challenge you to keep Bradbury’s words in mind: “Live in the library! Live in the library, for Christ’s sake. Don’t live on your goddamn computer and the internet and all that crap. Go to the library.” Why not pick up one of his books on your next library visit? After all, there’s no better way to connect with a writer than through the pages they’ve left behind.

Thanks for joining me on this journey into the creative world of Ray Bradbury! I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Are you a typewriter aficionado, a library lover, or maybe just someone who’s been inspired by Bradbury’s work? Share your story!

And hey, if this little dive into literary history brought you joy or sparked a new appreciation for Bradbury, feel free to leave a small token of thanks to help fuel more stories like this. No pressure—just putting it out there! Until next time, happy reading and dreaming.

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From Discount Hoagie Rolls to Family Tradition: A Sandwich Story

It’s funny how some of the best family traditions start in the most unexpected ways. For my family, it all began one evening in the late 1980s, during the hustle and bustle of life with two working parents and a child (me) too young to trust near a stove. That evening, my mom’s creativity turned a humble package of discounted hoagie rolls into a weekly ritual that still makes me smile today.

Back then, my parents had just started working long hours at Hackbarth Delivery Service. My sister was juggling school and her job at KFC and my mom barely had time to breathe, let alone plan elaborate dinners. She was the queen of one-pot wonders—spaghetti, chili, anything quick and easy. But even those go-to meals can feel like too much after a long day of driving around Pensacola, Mobile, Milton and everywhere else within the vacinity.

One evening, after picking me up from the babysitter, the Jerrells who lived within a quick bike ride from our house, my mom decided we’d swing by Piggly Wiggly to grab something simple for dinner. We weren’t the kind of family to splurge on Stouffer's or TV dinners and pot pies were strictly for lunch when we were sick. As we passed a shopping cart near the bakery, my mom’s eyes landed on a package of hoagie rolls bearing that magical “reduced for quick sale” sticker. And just like that, dinner—and a new tradition—was born.

With the hoagie rolls in our cart, we headed down the aisles in search of inspiration. First stop: chips and soda. My mom grabbed a 3-liter bottle of Piggly Wiggly Grape Soda and a bag of Piggly Wiggly Barbecue Potato Chips. Fancy? Not really—but let me tell you, store-brand snacks hit differently when you’re a kid. I loved them then, and honestly, I still do.

Next, we hit the sandwich meat section. Instead of buying one big pack of bologna or ham, my mom decided to make dinner feel special. She took advantage of an 8-for-$1 deal on Piggly Wiggly’s version of Buddig meats. Turkey, chicken, ham, beef—you name it, we had it. She also bought some bologna and salami with peppercorns because she and I both loved it.

Finally, we needed cheese. My limited knowledge of cheese extended to government cheese, pizza cheese and the individually wrapped singles that were a staple in our fridge. But that night, my mom branched out, snagging sliced mozzarella, Swiss and mild cheddar from a 3-for-$2 sale. Before heading to checkout, we backtracked to the produce section for a head of iceberg lettuce. Total cost? Around $11—a small price for what would become several meals and countless memories.

When we got home, my mom sprang into action. She sliced a fresh tomato from her modest backyard garden—a garden she’d discovered didn’t need watering, thanks to an unexpected quirk of the property. Apparently, our landlord had rerouted the washing machine runoff to the far end of the yard instead of the septic tank, a convenient (if unconventional) surprise for my mom when she planted her garden after we moved in. I can’t vouch for how safe the detergents were for us, but we never gave it much thought. My parents both made it into their 60s, and my sister and I are still thriving, so I’d say it worked out fine. Anyway, with the tomatoes sliced, the lettuce washed and everything laid out on the counter in perfect assembly-line fashion, my mom hit us with the big twist: we had to make our own sandwiches.

Let me tell you, the concept of a DIY sandwich bar for dinner was revolutionary to me. Subway was not in our area, yet and I'd never been to a place that specialized in sandwiches, in fact, I’d never had a sandwich on anything but plain white bread for lunch, let alone for dinner. I grabbed an old melmac plate and started stacking—lettuce, two slices of each cheese, a little of every meat, and a dollop of ketchup (much to my dad’s horror). His exact words were, “Ketchup just ruined that sandwich.” But hey, I liked it, and that’s what mattered.

This quick, thrown-together meal made such a splash that it became a weekly event. Those almost-stale hoagie rolls had officially entered family legend. Looking back, it wasn’t just about the sandwiches—it was about the time spent together, the old scratched up mismatched melamine plates and ridiculous sandwich combinations. My mom’s ability to turn something as simple as discounted hoagie rolls into a family tradition still amazes me.

This is a tradition that I wish I had carried over into adulthood but it seems that Terry and I are all about hot meals at night, though on occasion, if we order dinner from Anthony's Pizza and Pasta near our house, I'll order one of their subs as my entree for the sake of nostalgia.

Do you have a family meal that started as a spur-of-the-moment creation? Or a tradition born from necessity that ended up being the highlight of your week? Share your stories in the comments—I’d love to hear them!And hey, if this tale brought back memories or even made you smile, feel free to pass it along or drop a little something to keep these stories alive. Every hoagie roll counts. 😉

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A Purr-fectly Delightful Return to the Jellicle Ball! CATS: 1985 Australian Cast Recording

Ever since I first saw the Broadway production of CATS with my friend Tom back in 1992, I've been hooked. The sheer spectacle of the show, the elaborate costumes, dynamic choreography, and unforgettable music left a lasting impression on me. Over the years, I’ve collected various recordings, but none have quite captured the magic I remember from that night at the Winter Garden Theatre.

In 1996, while shopping at Footlight Records in New York, I stumbled upon the Australian cast recording of CATS. Until then, I hadn't known it even existed. This recording is, simply put, superb. Unlike the original Broadway and London cast recordings, which feel more like concept albums, this version brings me back to that 1992 performance. Despite being recorded 40 years ago, it offers a fresh yet nostalgic take on the beloved score. The sound quality is top-notch, crisp, and clear, allowing every little nuance of the performances to shine through. And let's talk about the inclusion of "The Pekes and the Pollicles" and the operatic section of "Growltiger's Last Stand"—these numbers are often omitted from other recordings, so it's a real treat for any CATS fan.

I adore both Betty Buckley and Elaine Paige as Grizabella on the Broadway and London recordings, and Debbie Byrne's interpretation adds a new dimension to their already iconic versions. The cast is outstanding, from Debbie Byrne's emotionally resonant Grizabella to Grant Smith's triple threat as Bustopher Jones, Gus, and Growltiger. Each performer brings their feline character to life with distinct personality and vocal prowess. Debbie’s take reminds me a bit of the long-time Broadway Grizabella, Laurie Beechman. Oh, and Marina Prior, who played the original Christine in the Australian premiere of The Phantom of the Opera, lends her incredible vocals to this cast as well. Some may find certain interpretations, like Mungojerrie's "vaudeville" style, a bit unconventional, but I found these choices refreshing and engaging. The orchestrations are lively and dynamic, capturing the playful and mischievous spirit of the Jellicle cats.

Let's not forget other notable cast members who went on to shine in the world of musical theatre. Anita Louise Combe later starred as Cosette in the original Australian production of Les Miserables, Betty Schaefer in both the London and Toronto productions of Sunset Blvd can be heard as Sillabub on this recording, David Atkins, who played Mistoffelees, later became a renowned choreographer and director, known for his work on the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games opening and closing ceremonies. Jeff Phillips, who portrayed Rum Tum Tugger, continued to have a successful career in Australian television and theatre. Pat Piney, who played Jennyanydots, also had a distinguished career in musical theatre, performing in various productions across Australia.

This recording isn't just a nostalgic trip; it's a fantastic preservation of the evolution of CATS. It's a must-have for any fan of the musical, whether you're a seasoned theatre-goer like me or a newcomer eager to experience the magic for the first time. It’s a treasure I’ll cherish for years to come, and I highly recommend adding this gem to your collection.

Thanks for joining me on this trip down memory lane! Do you have any favorite CATS memories or thoughts on this Australian cast recording? I'd love to hear about them in the comments below. Your insights are greatly appreciated! If you enjoyed this review and would like to support my creative endeavors, any contributions would be greatly appreciated. Just know that your support means the world to me. 😊

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The Lost Colony of Roanoke: A Vanishing Without Answers

Some stories aren’t meant to make you feel safe. They’re meant to unsettle you, to linger in your thoughts long after the lights go out. This is one of those stories—the enigma of the Lost Colony of Roanoke. It’s a tale of desperation and hope turned to despair, of unexplained disappearances, cryptic messages, and questions that echo across centuries. What happened to the 100 souls who vanished from Roanoke Island in the late 16th century? No answers. Only clues, whispers, and shadows. Join me as we step back in time to uncover one of the most terrifying unsolved mysteries in human history. But be warned—what you’ll find here may leave you with more questions than peace of mind.

In 1587, over 100 men, women, and children arrived on the shores of Roanoke Island. They were settlers, led by John White, determined to carve out a home in the unrelenting wilderness of the New World. Backed by the might of England and the favor of Queen Elizabeth I, their mission was as crucial as it was dangerous: to establish a foothold in North America before Spain expanded its grip further. But danger came swiftly. The colonists landed too late in the season to plant crops, and survival seemed impossible without aid. White was forced to sail back to England to gather supplies, leaving behind his daughter, his newborn granddaughter, and the rest of the colony.

Three years passed. Three years of war, storms, and delay. Three years of silence from the colony White had left behind. When John White finally returned to Roanoke in 1590, he found only emptiness. The village was abandoned, eerily devoid of life or possessions. Not a single settler remained. No bodies, no signs of struggle—only an eerie quiet that seemed to swallow every question he screamed into the wind.
But there were two clues. One, the letters “CRO” carved ominously into a tree trunk. The other, the word “CROATOAN” etched into a wooden post near the settlement’s boundary. White believed these cryptic carvings pointed to the nearby Croatoan Island, where the Croatoan people lived. But violent storms prevented him from searching further, and he returned to England, never knowing the fate of his daughter, his granddaughter, or the souls of Roanoke.

Centuries passed, and the mystery of Roanoke only deepened. In the late 1990s, archaeologists thought they were close to uncovering the truth. On Hatteras Island—formerly Croatoan Island—they unearthed artifacts of English origin: coins, pipes, and even a gold ring. For a moment, it seemed the mystery might finally be solved. But the ring was not the breakthrough it appeared to be. Its design—a lion crest linked to the Kendall family—revealed its owner couldn’t have been one of the lost Roanoke colonists. A dead end.

In 2012, a new and chilling clue emerged. Researchers at the British Museum examined La Virginea Pars, John White’s meticulously drawn map of the New World. Beneath a patch of paper, they discovered a hidden mark: a red and blue diamond, a symbol often used by the English to denote a fort. The mark was located at the confluence of the Chowan and Roanoke rivers, miles away from the original settlement. Why was the fort marked—and then deliberately hidden? Who covered it up, and what were they trying to conceal? Was this the final refuge of the lost colonists, or was it something far darker?

In recent years, science has joined the centuries-long hunt for the truth. DNA testing may hold the key to finally unraveling the mystery of Roanoke. Roberta Estes, a geneticist, has been collecting DNA samples from people whose ancestors lived in the Roanoke area during the 16th century. She searches for genetic links between the colonists and the Native American Croatoan people, hoping to find evidence that the settlers integrated with the tribe. But what if they didn’t? What if the lost colonists met a fate too sinister for history to record—a fate erased, perhaps, by something we’re not meant to understand?

The Lost Colony of Roanoke is more than a historical puzzle; it’s a haunting void in time, a scar in the fabric of history. What happened to those men, women, and children who vanished so completely, leaving behind only whispers in the trees and cryptic carvings in the wood? The truth remains hidden, tantalizingly out of reach. Did the colonists find refuge with the Croatoan people, or were they consumed by something far more unthinkable? To this day, the shadows of Roanoke Island seem to shroud the answers, leaving us to speculate, fear, and wonder.

The mystery of Roanoke is not just a tale of the past—it’s a story that lingers in the present, its unanswered questions as chilling now as they were in 1590. What do you believe happened to the Lost Colony? Could their fate be as simple as survival—or as terrifying as something far more sinister? Share your thoughts in the comments—I’m listening. And if this story left a mark on your imagination, consider supporting more explorations into history’s greatest mysteries. Every little bit helps keep the search for truth alive.

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Closet Phobias and Roller Disco Dreams: A Childhood Experience Remembered

Growing up, my world was full of tiny curiosities, unexplained fears and the occasional pinch of childhood magic. Our little yellow house in Mobile held many of those memories—some delightful, others downright chilling. And at the heart of it all was my closet, sitting ominously across from the foot of my bed, a source of both wonder and terror.

As a kid, I had two recurring dreams about that closet—dreams that came with the predictability of sunrise, yet couldn’t have been more different from one another. The first dream was pure joy: I’d open the closet door to reveal an incredible roller disco paradise. It was everything a kid could dream of, complete with ramps, flashing lights, and music that begged you to skate forever. It felt alive, magical, and surreal in the best way. Thinking back, it feels like a premonition to my Starlight Express experience.

But then there was the second dream. This one wasn’t a dream at all—it was a nightmare. I’d sit up in bed, cautiously open the closet door, hoping for the lively roller disco, only to be greeted by an endless black void. A dark, gaping cavern that pulled me in with an irresistible force, leaving me nothing to grab onto. I’d fall endlessly until either the sun’s rays woke me or Mama pulled me back to reality with her morning cough and raspy morning voice, telling me it was time for school.

Needless to say, I hated that nightmare. It scared me so much that I begged my mom to move my bed to the other side of the room, just so I wouldn’t have to face the closet at night. At that age, my phobia trifecta included three things: the closet (naturally), the aliens I swore had abducted me once in our house near Cody Road in Mobile, and, oddly enough, the vacuum cleaner.

When we moved from the yellow house on Easter Lane to a little blue house just a few doors down, the closet no longer felt threatening. It had a slatted, hinged door that didn’t seem to harbor mysteries. But when we eventually moved to Florida after the second grade, my old fears came roaring back.

The closet in our Pace Lane house was eerily similar to the one on Easter Lane—same placement across from the bed, same ominous vibes. Except this one came with an added twist: the doorknob on the inside didn’t work. If someone closed you in, you were stuck until they decided to let you out. My parents never fixed it, and my sister, ever the mischievous sibling, loved to exploit it. Sometimes she’d lock me in for a few agonizing seconds, and other times she’d just casually mention it, knowing the thought alone was enough to send chills down my spine.

Over the years, my fears evolved. I eventually outgrew my terror of the vacuum cleaner. The aliens didn’t seem quite so scary anymore, though I suspect that’s because I’ve since encountered much more terrifying beings: politicians, serial killers, and certain religious figures who’ve shown me what real horror looks like.

But closets? Small, dark spaces? They’ve never stopped unsettling me. I’ve learned to manage the fear—it’s no longer debilitating—but there’s still a flicker of unease whenever I encounter a tight, shadowy corner.

It’s funny how childhood fears stick with us, sometimes in unexpected ways. That little closet in Mobile shaped a lot of my early imagination—both the good and the not-so-good. And while I’m no longer that kid peeking through the door hoping for a roller disco, I still catch myself wondering what’s hidden behind life’s dark spaces.

Do you remember any fears or recurring dreams from your own childhood? Maybe a particular closet, attic, or even under the bed? I’d love to hear your stories. Drop a comment and let’s swap memories—you never know who might relate. And hey, if my story brought back a smile, a laugh, or even a little nostalgia, your kind support means the world to me. Whether it’s a thoughtful word or a small token of appreciation, it all helps keep these memories alive to share. 💛

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Saturday GLOWcase: Behind the Ropes: Steve Blance and the Magic of GLOW

Let’s hop in a time machine and take another nostalgic trip back to the dazzling world of 1980s television. If you’re a fan of wrestling, Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (GLOW) or just love everything retro, then buckle up, because this story is about to transport you straight into the glittering, larger-than-life spectacle that is GLOW. It’s more than just wrestling—it’s drama, comedy and raw creativity rolled into one unforgettable package. But while the wrestlers may have stolen the spotlight, the creative mind behind the scenes—Steve Blance—helped make it all happen.

Steve with Hollywood & Missy Hyatt

When we think about our favorite shows, we’re often so mesmerized by the action and drama on screen that we forget about the magic happening behind the scenes. Writers like Steve Blance are the unsung heroes of these productions. They don’t just write scripts—they create entire worlds. And boy, did Steve bring his A-game to GLOW!

Steve joined GLOW after the pilot had wrapped and hit the ground running as a comedy writer. But calling him “just a funny guy” wouldn’t do him justice. This man had already built an impressive resume—writing for New York radio, penning catchy commercial jingles, performing stand-up comedy, doing voice-overs and making appearances on cable TV. In other words, Steve had done it all. His versatility and sharp wit made him a perfect match for GLOW’s bold fusion of humor, drama and wrestling.

For Steve, wrestling wasn’t just a gig; it was a passion. His genuine love for the sport, paired with his comedic brilliance, earned him the role of head writer. But he didn’t stop there—when the show’s first referee, Frank D’Amato, stepped down, Steve laced up his boots and jumped into the role himself. The man didn’t just write the story; he lived it. Oh, and if that’s not enough, he also ventured into acting, scoring parts in indie films. One particularly quirky highlight? A cameo in a Woody Allen film where he was tailing Leonardo DiCaprio. Unfortunately, the scene didn’t make the final cut, but it’s still a fun tidbit to add to his eclectic career.

Steve with my fellow GLOW Historian, Mike Rand

Steve’s time with GLOW wasn’t just about wrestling—it was about capturing the spirit of the ’80s. Take Palestina, for example—her character drew directly from the geopolitical conflicts dominating the news at the time. Then there was Ninotchka, whose gradual softening toward capitalism mirrored the shifting tides of the Cold War. Steve didn’t stop there; he tapped into the horror movie craze of the decade to bring Dementia to life, while ‘80s pop-culture icon Max Headroom sparked the creation of Miles Headlock. What made Steve’s creative process so special was his ability to take these big, cultural themes and translate them into something fun, engaging, and relatable for GLOW’s audience.
Steve also had a unique way of creating characters. Some were carefully crafted from the start, while others grew organically, sparked by a performer’s personality or special talents. MTV, for instance, came to life thanks to Steve’s ability to weave together elements of rock ‘n’ roll and wrestling culture. She wasn’t just a character—she was a vibe. This knack for blending pop culture into wrestling helped GLOW resonate with fans of all ages, from kids mesmerized by the colorful characters to adults captivated by the clever storylines.

Steve with Jailbait and Big Bad Mama

Now, let’s get personal. I had the privilege of meeting Steve back in 2018 at an event in New York. Let me tell you, he’s every bit as fan-friendly as you’d hope. After hearing me sing a few tunes (yes, I still belt out songs every now and then), Steve was kind enough to compliment my voice. Coming from someone as talented as him, that meant the world to me. And speaking of singing, Steve gave us all a treat that night with his Louis Armstrong impression of "What a Wonderful World." It was a truly unforgettable evening spent with Steve and the amazing ladies of GLOW.

Steve with Johnny C

What an incredible legacy, right? GLOW wasn’t just a show; it was an explosion of creativity that defined an era. So, what’s your favorite GLOW moment? Or maybe there’s a wrestling memory that sticks with you? Drop a comment—I’d love to hear your stories and keep this retro magic alive.
If you’ve enjoyed this little walk down memory lane and want to help me keep the good times rolling, feel free to show your support. No pressure, but every bit helps fuel more nostalgic tales like this. Until next time, stay fabulous, my friends!

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Time Capsule 1980: A Family’s Journey Through Change and Cultural Shifts

Stepping into 1980 feels like opening a time capsule—each memory and milestone woven together to tell the story of a year that was equal parts personal and historic. For my family, it was a year of finding normalcy after the chaos of 1979. We’d weathered Hurricane Frederic and the challenges of the aftermath while living with my grandmother. But in 1980, change came in the form of a little yellow house at the end of Easter Lane in the Holiday Estates subdivision in Mobile, Alabama—a neighborhood that would become the backdrop of our lives until we moved to Florida in the mid-80's. The house wasn’t fancy, but my sister and I had our own rooms and a huge backyard which was nestled at the edge of the woods, it felt like a fresh start. Sadly, that neighborhood was demolished in the early 2000s and the land is now an undeveloped part of the Mobile Regional Airport.

Life at home was simple yet rich with memories. My dad worked long hours as a shipbuilder at the Alabama Drydock and Shipbuilding Company, while my sister spent her days at school. That left me with Mama, who, as a stay-at-home mom, filled our days with purpose and care. Together, we nurtured her vibrant garden, where she seemed to have a magical touch for growing everything—cucumbers, bell peppers, squash, green onions, cantaloupe, carrots, watermelon, and, whimsically, sunflowers. Mama also took up canning, turning our pantry into a treasure trove of bread-and-butter pickles and chow chow. Sundays we’d dress in our best and head to Pleasant View Baptist Church, which anchored othe neighborhood until it, too, was lost to the airport’s expansion. While the church didn’t leave me with much spiritually, it did ignite my love for performing, potlucks, and casseroles. Another vivid memory is Mama’s letter-writing. As I mentioned in a previous blog post, she often penned heartfelt letters to her friend Nancy, my grandma, and other family members. Back then, a stationery set and a book of 15-cent postage stamps were far more affordable than the average long-distance phone call, making letters was Mama's lifeline of connection.

White star was where Pleasent View Baptist Church was, Yellow Star is where the little yellow house we lived in was and the Blue Star marks the spot where the house we rented from Mr. Moon when we moved out of the yellow house a couple of years before we moved to Florida was.

Living on the edge of the woods had its fair share of hazards. The yard teemed with wildlife—rabbits, opossums, and armadillos often wandered through, but so did less welcome guests like pygmy rattlers and cottonmouths. My sister, however, found a fiercely loyal guardian in a calico stray cat that happened upon our yard and stayed, she named Prissy. True to her name, Prissy embodied every bit of that self-assured attitude. She barely tolerated me, reserving all her affection for my sister, but her snake-hunting prowess was unmatched. Prissy was skinny, small but a fearless hunter, often leaving half-dead pygmy rattlers and baby cottonmouths on our front porch as if to flaunt her triumphs.

One of my most poignant memories of that house unfolded a year later, on the day we lost Chip, my beloved beagle. He was my first dog, my best friend, and the most loyal companion a kid could ask for. I named him after a boy I had a crush on, the son of Mrs. Jackson, my kindergarten teacher. Tragically, his curious encounter with an eastern diamondback rattlesnake ended in heartbreak. The bite was severe and with no money for a vet, my dad made the gut-wrenching decision to end Chip's suffering with his rifle. It was an act of mercy, but it shattered my heart. Chip had a doghouse of his own, yet he preferred the crawl space under our house—it was his favorite spot, his safe haven, and it was probably quite cool under there. I missed him deeply and the emptiness he left lingered my dad and sister brought home a beautiful black-and-white English Springer Spaniel puppy I named Pickles.

Not Chip but he looks pretty close.

Beyond the walls of our yellow house, 1980 was alive with stories—some that shook the world and others that delighted it. Economically, the cost of living looked wildly different from today. The median yearly income for families was $21,023 and the minimum wage was a mere $3.10 an hour. It costs $3,499 on average for tuition at a four year college, including room and board. A new home would set you back around $64,600, while a gallon of gas cost just $1.25, and a new refrigerator with a water dispenser and icemaker was probably cheaper than a VCR, which was priced at $699—an astronomical sum for the latest tech. Being that a VCR was out of financial reach of most, a basic movie ticket was around $2.69, not including popcorn and a soda.

Politically, Jimmy Carter was president, with Walter Mondale as his vice president, though Reagan and Bush were elected in November. The U.S. population stood at approximately 227.2 million, while the world population reached 4.4 billion. International tensions ran high; frustrated by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and the Iran hostage crisis, President Carter announced a boycott of the Moscow Summer Olympics and imposed sanctions on Iran. Meanwhile, on January 28, six U.S. diplomats staged a daring escape from Iran during the hostage crisis by posing as Canadians.

Carter and Reagan

In cultural milestones, The eruption of Mount St. Helens in Washington kills 57 people and causes over $1 billion in damage, CNN launched on June 1 as the first 24-hour news network, revolutionizing how we consumed news. On February 22, the U.S. Olympic hockey team delivered the legendary "Miracle on Ice," defeating the Soviet Union in Lake Placid. And on December 8, the world mourned as John Lennon was tragically shot outside his New York apartment.

Mt. St. Helens when it began to erupt, in 1980

The entertainment world thrived. At the Oscars, Ordinary People took home Best Picture, while Robert De Niro and Sissy Spacek were awarded Best Actor and Best Actress for their performances in Raging Bull and Coal Miner’s Daughter, respectively. On television, new shows like Bosom Buddies and Magnum, P.I. premiered, while beloved classics such as The Rockford Files, Barnaby Jones, Love of Life and Hawaii Five-O aired their finales. In theaters, The Empire Strikes Back dominated the box office, earning its place in cinematic history despite initial mixed reviews.

Children immersed themselves in the joys of toys and games, with Rubik’s Cubes—my sister's obsession, which she eventually mastered—Spirograph, Holly Hobbie dolls, Hot Wheels & Matchbox cars, the Barbie Dreamhouse, Lite-Brite, and my personal favorite, Strawberry Shortcake dolls. Meanwhile, bookworms lost themselves in captivating reads like The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum, A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn, Firestarter by Stephen King, and Cosmos by Carl Sagan.

In sports, the Philadelphia Phillies captured the World Series, the Los Angeles Lakers dominated the NBA, and the Georgia Bulldogs claimed NCAA football glory. For horse racing fans, Genuine Risk became a Kentucky Derby champion, while Seve Ballesteros triumphed at the PGA Masters Tournament.

The year 1980 welcomed the birth of numerous future stars, including Lin-Manuel Miranda, Christina Ricci, Zooey Deschanel, Macaulay Culkin, Ryan Gosling, Kristen Bell, and Jake Gyllenhaal. However, it was also a year of poignant losses. Icons such as Alfred Hitchcock, Jimmy Durante, Colonel Sanders, Steve McQueen, Mae West and heartbreakingly, John Lennon left the world. Lennon's tragic death left an indelible mark on history and the hearts of millions.

Jake Gyllenhaal

Looking back, 1980 was a year of contrasts. For my family, it was about building a life, growing a garden and navigating the challenges of everyday life For the world, it was a year of triumphs, tragedies, and cultural shifts. What about you? Do you remember 1980? Whether it’s a favorite toy, a beloved song, or a family story, I’d love to hear your memories. Share them in the comments, and if this story brought a smile (or a spark of nostalgia), your support helps keep these stories alive.

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This Bird Has Flown: A Note-Perfect Rom-Com by Bangles lead singer Susanna Hoffs

If you’ve ever hit replay a thousand times on Manic Monday, sang along to Eternal Flame or jammed to Walk Like an Egyptian, then you’re probably just as devoted to the Bangles as I am. Their album Different Light was a game-changer for me as a kid. It not only filled my days with infectious melodies but sparked a love for music that shaped my entire childhood. Susanna Hoffs, the lead singer of the Bangles, became a sort of icon in my life. I followed her career like a true fan, collecting every album, single and in recent years, her collaborations with Matthew Sweet. One of my favorite recent covers is her rendition of They Don’t Know, originally by Kirsty MacColl and later a hit for Tracey Ullman. I’ve always admired her artistry, but when I heard she was releasing her debut novel, I was hesitant. Could a legendary musician also be a great author? Let me tell you—Susanna absolutely delivered.

As many of you may have noticed, my book interest usually gravitates around Young Adult, LGBTQ, History and Self-Help but being a fan of Susanna, I couldn't resist the temptation of delving into her her novel, This Bird Has Flown, which swept me off my feet. It's a racy, witty rom-com—a delightful fusion of Bridget Jones and Daisy Jones. At its heart is Jane Start, a talented singer who’s been stuck in the shadow of her younger years. She’s lost, broke and grappling with the weight of past fame. But life takes an unexpected turn when Jane meets Tom Hardy (no, not the actor—an Oxford professor) on a flight to London. What follows is a rollercoaster of emotions, romance and rediscovery, all set against a soundtrack of nostalgia-inducing musical references. From struggles with past relationships to the whirlwind of love and fame, Jane’s story is as raw and personal as it is entertaining.

I first read the hardcover version of this book shortly after its release and it immediately captivated me. I also had the pleasure of listening to the audiobook, which is brought to life by the incredible narrations of Susanna Hoffs herself and Juliet Stevenson. Their voices added so much depth and charm to the story, making it a truly immersive experience. For those who prefer to wait for paperbacks, the book was released in paperback March 5, 2024, from Back Bay Books.

Reading this book felt like diving headfirst into spring—it was as refreshing as blasting In Your Room on repeat. Susanna’s storytelling radiates warmth and charm, creating a journey that’s clever, sexy and laugh-out-loud funny. I especially appreciated the nods to music throughout the book; they add a layer of depth and nostalgia that make the story even more engaging.

What really struck me was Susanna’s ability to weave music into every aspect of the narrative. Jane Start, the protagonist, struggles with writer’s block, heartbreak and the challenges of reinventing herself. But thanks to her best friend Pippa (who’s an absolute gem of a character), a spontaneous trip to London sparks both creativity and connection. Her relationship with Tom is fiery and real, filled with all the ups and downs that make you root for them from page one.

In true Susanna fashion, as with her own music, she doesn’t hold back when it comes to exploring Jane’s anxieties and insecurities. Watching Jane rediscover her confidence was inspiring—it’s a reminder that second chances are always within reach. And the supporting cast? Perfection. Every character brought their own charm to the story, making it a joy to read from start to finish.

For those who love authors like Taylor Jenkins Reid, Linda Holmes, Elin Hilderband, Andrew Sean Greer or Katherine St. John, this book is an absolute must-read. And if you're a fan of celebrity gossip or intrigued by the inside world of music, you’ll devour every page. Susanna’s novel strikes the perfect balance between escapism and relatability, delivering a story that is sure to connect with readers across generations.

Whether you’re a longtime fan of Susanna Hoffs or just discovering her work, This Bird Has Flown is a debut novel that hits all the right notes. It’s funny, heartfelt and brimming with music-filled nostalgia. I’d love to hear your thoughts! Have you read the book yet? If so, what did you think? Share your comments below—I would love to hear your thoughts of this book. And if this review brightened your day or brought a smile to your face, feel free to show your appreciation in any way that feels right. 😉 Every little bit helps keep these posts going strong!

Now, queue up your favorite Bangles playlist, grab a copy of This Bird Has Flown and enjoy. Happy reading!

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Brewing Nostalgia: Coffee, Memories and a Bicycle Business Possibility

Let’s take a trip back to New York City in the early ‘90s—a time before Starbucks became a household name, when coffee culture was defined by corner delis, diners, and the iconic blue-and-white “We Are Happy to Serve You” and "World's Best Cup of Coffee" cups. For me, this was a time of survival, discovery, and a growing love for everything adults loved that weren't really on the radar for kids my age, one being coffee, which would stay with me for life. At just 16, I was navigating life in New York, “homeless” in the technical sense but never without a sense of purpose. Coffee became one of my lifelines, at least during the day—a source of warmth, comfort, and energy during those cold days of swinging from payphone to client.

Back in 1992-1993, during my time in New York, Starbucks had yet to leave its mark on the city. The first location wouldn't arrive until 1994, so New Yorkers turned to a rich tapestry of local spots to get their caffeine fix. One standout was Tiffany Restaurant—a classic diner known for its hearty meals and strong, straightforward coffee. Like many iconic establishments, Tiffany Restaurant has since closed its doors, leaving behind only fond memories of its warm, no-frills atmosphere. Ordering coffee there was simple: you’d get a few packets of sweeteners to choose from—usually sugar, Equal, or Sweet'N Low—and two or three small containers of half-and-half. It wasn’t fancy, but it hit the spot, and you left content with what you got. Another gem was The Coffee Shop near Union Square. Erik, a friend and sort of boyfriend I met during my time in the city, introduced me to this spot, claiming it had the best coffee around. While the coffee was a bit strong for my taste, a more than generous splash of half-and-half and a heap of sugar transformed it into a sweet reminder of my childhood, sneaking sips of my parents’ Folgers or Piggly Wiggly brand coffee.

For those on the go, corner delis and bodegas were the unsung heroes of NYC’s coffee scene. Often run by hardworking immigrant families, these spots offered quick, affordable cups of coffee in those iconic blue-and-white cups. There were also an incredible amount of Dunkin Donuts locations that offered, not only a place for random homeless people to camp and hope they flew under employee radar but also served what's one of my favorite cups of coffee to this day. And let’s not forget, for those of us who made their way out of the city and into New Jersey, the ubiquitous 7-Eleven, where a big cup of coffee cost just 79 cents. Sure, it was often old and bitter, but it got the job done.

During those days, I sometimes dreamed of starting my own portable coffee shop—a business built onto a bicycle. Imagine pedaling through the streets of New York, serving up steaming cups of coffee to the masses, just like a hot dog vendor. I swear if I used Folgers, Chock Full o’Nuts, Maxwell House, or even A&P-branded coffee, none of the customers would have known. My idea was simple: offer coffee just a few cents cheaper than the corner stores and restaurants, making it accessible to everyone.
Had I had the resources to build something like that and the mindset to step away from the easy money of hustling, I might have turned that dream into reality. Even now, the idea of a bicycle coffee shop feels like a fun, practical business—something I could see myself doing in retirement, perhaps after a knee replacement or two. It could be a way to stay active, connect with people, and share the joy of coffee, one cup at a time.

Coffee wasn’t just a drink during those days; it was a symbol of comfort for me. Whether it was a strong cup from a diner, a quick fix from a corner deli, or a bitter brew from 7-Eleven, each cup carried a sense of normalcy and warmth that I desperately needed. Even now, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee takes me back to those days when I would walk the streets of New York—a time of survival, discovery, and that odd dream of a caffeinated future.

Coffee has a way of weaving itself into our lives, doesn’t it? It’s more than just a drink; it’s a source of comfort, a ritual, and sometimes even a dream. I’d love to hear your coffee stories. Do you have a favorite café or a special memory tied to a cup of coffee? Let’s chat in the comments—I’m all ears (or should I say, all beans?). And hey, if this story resonated with you and you’d like to support more content like this, your kindness would mean the world to me. Here’s to more coffee, more stories, and more dreams. ☕💜

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A Sweet Memory with Dave Willetts: Hypnotized by On and Off Stage

Picture this: It’s January 1993, one of the coldest days and nights I can recall. I found myself at a man’s apartment in New York City, invited to stay over because of the freezing weather. Here’s how it happened: we were sitting together at Julius', watching the news as they ran a report on hypothermia and frostbite, warning about the dangerously low temperatures that night and the following day. I can’t remember his name, but he was kind—a real aged-hippy vibe. At one point, he turned to me and said, “My place is warm. Would you like to come stay over? I have an electric blanket too.”

It’s a quirky detail, sure, but trust me, it perfectly sets the stage for an evening that would stay with me for decades.

Dave Willetts as The Phantom

This man happened to know I was a die-hard fan of The Phantom of the Opera (and let’s be honest, probably used it to set the mood, haha). He put on On and Off Stage, Dave Willetts’ album. Now, at the time, I only knew of Dave Willetts by association—he had taken over the Phantom role in London after the legendary Michael Crawford stepped away. But when I heard his voice for the first time that night, it was nothing short of mesmerizing. His tone was so much sweeter and gentler than I was used to after hearing Michael Crawford, Colm Wilkinson, and even Mark Jacoby who was currently performing the role on Broadway. I was hooked.

While On and Off Stage includes just two songs from Phantom, it delivers so much more. Willetts’ rendition of “The Music of the Night” is an absolute standout. If you haven’t heard it, you have been missing out! That said, I have to admit I was slightly let down by the album’s version of the title track, “The Phantom of the Opera.” It wasn’t due to Willetts himself—his vocals are stunning—but rather the choice of Lesley Garrett to sing opposite him. While she’s undeniably talented, the duet lacked the iconic “Sing For Me” cadenza and Christine's high E, which has always been a highlight for fans. Fun fact: she later nailed it when Michael Ball featured her on one of his own albums, which did include the full cadenza.

Dave as Jean Valjean

But what really surprised me was that my favorite tracks weren’t from Phantom or even musical theatre. Willetts’ mashup of Bette Midler’s “The Rose” and Neil Diamond’s “Hello Again” is pure magic. And “Nights Are Forever,” a song you might recognize from Twilight Zone: The Movie, was another hidden gem that I couldn’t stop replaying. Then there’s his breathtaking performance of the mashup “Be On Your Own” and “Unusual Way” from the musical Nine. Honestly, it’s the kind of artistry that leaves you in awe.

The next day, before retreating to my little abode in New Jersey to hunker down for the rest of the icy cold, I couldn’t leave the city without making this album mine. I headed straight to Colony Records and snagged their only copy of On and Off Stage. I’ll admit—it was really expensive for an album with just 12 tracks, but honestly? It was worth every penny then, and it still is today.

To this day, it remains one of my most cherished albums—a treasure that instantly transports me back to that freezing New York evening and the unforgettable warmth of discovering a voice that completely captivated me. Dave Willetts’ On and Off Stage is a musical treasure. It’s more than just an album; it’s an experience, blending iconic theatre pieces with pop ballads in a way that feels personal and timeless. Whether you’re a theatre buff, a collector of all things related to The Phantom of the Opera or just someone who appreciates beautiful vocals, I can’t recommend it enough.

Now, I’d love to hear from you! Have you heard this album or have any special memories tied to Dave Willetts’ music? Share your thoughts in the comments below—I’d genuinely love to connect and chat with fellow fans. And hey, if you enjoyed this little journey down memory lane and would like to support more content like this, your kindness doesn’t go unnoticed. A heartfelt “thank you” goes out to anyone who feels inspired to contribute. 💜

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Whispers from the Depths: The Haunting of Kitty's Steps

Welcome, dear reader, to a tale that intertwines the tranquility of nature with the chilling whispers of the supernatural. Have you ever felt the eerie pull of a place, where the air seems to shimmer with unseen presences? Tonight, we delve into one such haunted corner of Devon, England—Lydford Gorge and its infamous pool, known as Kitty's Steps. This story has it all: mystery, tragedy, and a spectral seductress who beckons from beyond the grave. So, settle in, dim the lights, and prepare yourself for a journey into the unknown.

From the dawn of time, water has been a portal to the supernatural—a rock-fanged coast, a tumultuous river, or an idyllic pool can become the stage for ghostly encounters. In Devon, at Lydford Gorge, lies a dark pool fed by a twenty-foot cascade, a place known as Kitty's Steps. Local legend holds that this pool harbors a spirit so seductive, it lures the unwary to a watery grave.

The story begins many years ago with an old woman named Kitty, who was returning home from the market. Opting for a shortcut through a ravine instead of the main road, Kitty led her horse along a narrow pathway that brought her perilously close to the waterfall where she had played as a child. Recent heavy rains had made the path slippery, or perhaps—as some whisper—a spirit beckoned her from the pool below. Regardless of the cause, Kitty never made it home. Her horse was found quietly grazing on the riverbank, and her red kerchief was discovered near the pool. From that day on, Kitty's ghost has been seen standing near the waterfall, her kerchiefed head bowed as she stares into the water, lost in an eternal vigil.

In 1968, the sinister reputation of Kitty's Steps grew darker still. A young soldier, hurrying back to his camp, chose the same shortcut through the ravine. When he went missing for several weeks, a search ensued. His body was eventually found floating on the water's surface below the cascade, a grim reminder of the pool's deadly allure.

These ghostly accounts are more than mere stories; they're a chilling reminder of the thin veil between our world and the unknown. Lydford Gorge and Kitty's Steps serve as a haunting testament to the lives lost and the spirits that may still linger, reaching out to those who venture too close.

And so, we leave Lydford Gorge, its dark waters still whispering their secrets. Do the spirits of Kitty and the young soldier truly linger there, calling out to the living? As with all ghost stories, the truth lies somewhere between the seen and the unseen, the known and the unknown. If this tale of watery doom has captivated your imagination, I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. And if you feel compelled to support more eerie explorations, a token of appreciation would be most welcome. Until our paths cross again, stay curious and keep your senses sharp—you never know what might be lurking just beyond the shadows.👻

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