jimmy stewart’s bedford falls…the real deal?

It's a Wonderful Life

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I never stopped to think that Bedford Falls of It’s A Wonderful Life might really exist. Perhaps the fact that so many films were made on Hollywood‘s back lot in the good old days, had me assuming that such was the case with this Christmas classic. That Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed graced the streets and inhabited the buildings of one lucky town, seemed unlikely.

New friend and fellow WordPress blogger, Judy Berman, wrote a fascinating post about visiting the real town of Bedford Falls. I was intrigued enough to comment that I might have to add it to my bucket list…to be fulfilled when hubby retires. 

You might want to take a trip back in time, reliving a vintage, black and white, Hollywood Christmas…strolling down memory lane…by clicking on http://earth-rider.com/2011/12/17/jimmy-stewarts-bedford-falls-comes-to-life-2/#comment-107. 

Maybe you already know which town she’s referring to…and maybe you don’t. You’ll only find out for sure if you hop on over to Judy’s blog, earthriderdotcom and have a look-see for yourself…

and tell her…i sent you…

………hugmamma.  🙂

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“calling comcast…earth to comcast”

Well, it may be that Sunday’s a day of rest, as the Lord said, or it may be that my Comcast relationship has been laid to rest. Perhaps my guardian angels Mark, Michael and Amanda have all “gotten their wings,” like Clarence, Jimmy Stewart’s angel in “It’s A Wonderful Life.” And just as he deserved them, so too did mine. I don’t remember if I ever thanked them for their services, I’m hoping I did. Asking, and then receiving, should always be followed up with a gracious “thank you.” So “Thank you, Mark, Michael and Amanda! Wherever you are!”

Meanwhile, back to Sylvia’s phone issues. Maybe some new guardian angels will come along, looking to earn their wings. “Dear God, please help my friends…”

for messed up phones…let’s all pray, from our mouths…to comcast’s ears…hugmamma.

“and the beat goes on, la, de, da, de, day,” comcast

Comcast’s Mark  appeared from nowhere again, leaving me a comment! It’s like having a guardian angel. Maybe he’s trying to earn wings like Clarence, Jimmy Stewart’s sidekick on “It’s A Wonderful Life.” Love that show, just saw it last night, or was it the night before? Running between the computer downstairs and the laptop upstairs to see if they’re working is again taking its toll. Comcast is one topic I’d like to relegate to the archives, but of course it’s the first thing on my mind since I can’t even use my own computer to blog. Every time I sign on to my husband’s laptop, I must wend my way through a very lengthy process. It’s amazing how we take so much for granted, until we have to go through each and every step. No shortcuts here. This laptop only knows my husband; it treats me like an alien from outer space, or as the case may be, “internet space. But you know me, neither snow, nor sleet, nor rain, nor lack of internet service will stop me from blogging.

You may think I’m ludicrous, but I’m still hoping for a “happy-ending.” Do I have a choice? Well, maybe, but I’m an optimist, most of the time. Other times I’m a fatalist. Perhaps I’m a fatalistic optimist. Remember, I’m trying to help Mark earn his wings, while practicing compassion, and positivism. You can help by sending all the good karma you can spare. It’s the holidays after all, the season for giving…and forgiving. Do I sound like I’m trying to convince myself not to blow a gasket? You bet your sweet life!

Do you know about THE COMCAST CUSTOMER GUARANTEE? With our bill today, was a graphically appealing leaflet touting the company’s efforts on behalf of, well, us! Here’s how it reads, in full.

You spoke, we listened. At Comcast you can expect faster answers to your questions–24 hours a day, 7 days a week. A $20 account credit if we’re late to an appointment and a complimentary service if we don’t solve a routine problem in one visit. IT’S TIME TO EXPERIENCE WHAT GREAT CUSTOMER SERVICE FEELS LIKE. comcast.com/guarantee 

hmmm???…breathing deeply…ahhh…hugmamma.

out and about

Just spent a nice day out and about, with my husband. Great to step away from the keyboard and enjoy life first-hand. Reminiscences are wonderful, but so is creating fresh memories.

Heading east we enjoyed clear views of the mountains, and the evergreen landscape that stretched for miles toward the distant horizon. The weather is cooling down, a signal of fall’s appearance. While not as abundant and colorful as the seasonal change in New England, we’re still blessed to bear witness to Mother Nature’s handiwork here in Washington.

We stopped in a small town to lunch. Instead of our usual choice, we decided to eat at Twede’s, a diner that serves breakfast all day. Not a fancy place by any means, but booths filled almost to capacity meant the food was good. Allowed to seat ourselves, we chose the only available booth toward the back, left-side. Once seated, I noticed that the lighting was poor so we moved to a table in the middle of the floor. Shortly afterwards, a wedding party filtered into the diner.  As they mingled near the entrance, it was obvious the bride and groom, and their bridesmaids and groomsmen would be occupying most of the other tables around us. Wanting to give them elbow room, I decided we should move to a booth that had become vacant. At this point my husband, and I were feeling like the Ricardos and the Mertzes in the episode of “I Love Lucy” where she changes tables at a restaurant. The first move was for a better view, and the second, because of an overhead draft. Having watched the sitcom countless times throughout the years, I am probably Lucy Ricardo, reborn. Our daughter agrees.

From the booth I had a perfect view of the wedding party. I gave my husband a running commentary on their attire. Probably in their 20’s and 30’s, the young men and women seemed suitably attired for their ages. The gals wore black cocktail dresses in varying styles that flattered; the guys, black pants held up by suspenders over white, long-sleeved shirts. They might have looked a tad like the Amish. The groom was dressed similarly, but with a vest, and tweed cap pulled low over his brow. The bride wore a strapless gown sporting a vintage look in off-white tule, sprinkled with something glittery. From afar I wasn’t able to decide what gave the dress its bling. The bouquets were simple, large mums in shades of plum, creme and eggplant. I didn’t glimpse the bride’s.

Only in a humble eatery on a country road would we see a bridal party assemble for picture-taking, without ordering a meal. I think a couple of slices of the diner’s famous cherry pie and mugs of coffee, were shared by the wedding couple and the photographers. Otherwise photos were snapped, and the group was on its way, calling out their thanks as they exited. My husband and I surmised that arrangements had been made beforehand, because the waitresses were not perplexed by the group’s short stay.

It wasn’t long before my husband and I were served our delicious hamburgers, his, the “Southwestern” and mine, the “Philly.” They were accompanied by fries and onion rings. We happily downed our meal with a Red Hook (him) and a root beer float (me). Unable to resist, we shared their cherry pie à la mode. Not a lick was left.

Ambling out the door, we sauntered across the town’s main street to Birches Habitat. What a find! My husband left me to browse leisurely, while he walked further down the street to check out other establishments. The front of the shop was stocked with gift items befitting a mountain lodge: metal figures of moose, needlework pillows of a black labrador resting on a red background, assorted guidebooks of the area, scented candles in glass jars painted with butterflies, fragrant soaps in horticultural paper wrap, and other similar merchandise.

Before wandering further back in the store, I selected a book as a Christmas gift for a friend. He’s 76, and while I have no difficulty finding a gift for his wife, I’m usually at a loss when it comes to him. The gift is actually appropriate for both, i’ll wait in the car – dogs along for the ride, texts and photographs by marcie jan bronstein. It seems wherever they drive, our friends cart their dachshund, Gretchen, along. Their previous dachshund, Schatzie, was also their traveling companion before she passed away. So a picture book of dogs waiting for their owners’ return seemed made for our friends. Some of the captions for the photos read “There are dogs waiting alone, dogs waiting with friends, dogs waiting with relatives, and puppies learning to wait.” 

Paying for the book and a few other trinkets, we left main street heading away from town. A tip from the shopkeeper sent me in search of Bad Sisters, an antique shop. Besides blogging, I also sell antiques and collectibles. I make more money selling old stuff, than I do writing. Truth be told, I earn a little in the former, and zilch in the latter. Does it matter that I’m passionate about both? It’d been a while since I visited  the antique shop, having forgotten its existence. Or maybe it was because the pickings were slim. Today was different. I left the shop with some nice items for resale: a large steamer trunk, giant crock, folding room-divider, plaid print tin basket with handle, a couple of old bottles with interesting motifs, an old sepia photo of a Danish family, a tall pair of shabby chic candlesticks, a small white curio cabinet with glass shelves and a few other things. Luckily, I didn’t purchase a drop-leaf, gate-leg, pine table. It would have ridden in the car, while I walked home or thumbed a ride.

Noshing on bagels with cream cheese, grapes and cups of coffee, we spent the evening playing Bananagrams. Amidst a lot of laughter, my husband and I scrambled to finish first. I think he won one game, and I won the other. It depends on who spins the story. Since I’m telling it, we each won one. 

As you can see I’m at the keyboard, my husband is in his recliner watching James Stewart and June Allyson in “The Glenn Miller Story,” the pets are doing their own thing. “God’s in His heaven and all’s right with the world.” Is that how the saying goes? My husband’s unable to confirm this, even though he was the English major.

do you know?…hugmamma.