Biography

All posts in the Biography category

28 June 2019

Published June 26, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Click the Frog and Hop Along

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

GROWING PAIN

After a day of enduring Alfalfa’s foul temper and pranks, such as sticking chewing gum in a movie camera, the frustrated “Our Gang” director pulled him aside. “Kid, I swear, the day you turn 21, I’m going to find you and beat the shit out of you.”

            By 1940 the thirteen-year-old was a has-been. Although he landed some small roles in a few pictures, he found it necessary to supplement his income by bartending or training dogs.

            A bullet ended his downward spiral in a heated dispute over $50. On January 21, 1959, Carl “Alfalfa” Switzer took his final bow.  

***

25 January 2019

Published January 23, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.)  Many thanks. 

The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

I must make mention here, that in the going on 7 years I’ve hosted Friday Fictioneers, this is one of the few Ted actually sent for use as a prompt. Usually I just ‘borrow’ them (with express permission, of course. 😉 Thanks, Ted. 😀

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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Genre: Historical Faction

Word Count: 100

MCMLIII

“What’s so special about 1953?”   

            For one, Bob Wisoff bought his first car. A ’53 Chevrolet Bel Air.

            September 4, he and Evalyne welcomed their second child.  

            On the same date, West Indian native, Clothilda Jacobs delivered her 5th child, Lawrence. It was the twelfth day of New York’s longest recorded heatwave.

            The Chevy is long gone.

            Lawrence went on to delight audiences as Sweathog Freddy “Boom-Boom” Washington with a cocky grin and, “Hi there.”   

            Bob’s daughter, Rochelle, married and raised three sons. She still creates art, literature, and, occasionally, a bit of havoc.  

            It was a very good year.

 

28 December 2018

Published December 26, 2018 by rochellewisoff


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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.)  Many thanks. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

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For those who celebrate, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Another rerun this week. For those who have written for this prompt (and you know who you are) feel free to post a repeat as well. This is my story from July 12, 2013 . Time flies, doesn’t it? Thanks to all who have hung with me for the past 6 years. I’d list them, but I’d be sure to leave someone out. Hard to believe this is the last Friday Fictioneers post for 2018! A HAPPY HEALTHY NEW YEAR TO ALL! Shalom, Rochelle 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BRIGHT BLESSED DAY, DARK SACRED NIGHT

            Life in 1907 New Orleans made Rebecca Karnofsy question the “land of the free”. As in Russia, they were still persecuted. Scapegoats.

            After circling her hands around the candles, she recited the Sabbath prayer, ending with, “Omayn and Gut Shabbos.”

            “Gut Shabbos.” Louis’ smile eclipsed his midnight-brown face.

            “A fine boy.” Bernie patted his head. “Already he’s repaid my loan.”  

            One of the Karnofsky boys sniffed. “He just bought a dumb old horn.”

            Eyes wider than wide, Louis jumped up from his chair. “Someday dis whole wonderful world gon’ hear my trumpet an’ know my name is Louis Daniel Armstrong!”

Young Louis Armstrong with his mother and sister.

Amen.

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ANNOUNCING:

My Coffee Table book A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY is now available on Amazon KINDLE or Paperback. Hardcover is available at Barnes & Noble.com

The print version is also available on Amazon.co.uk. Amazon Australia and India have the Kindle version only. I’m not crazy about the formatting job they did on the Kindle, but it’s all there. 😉 

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7 December 2018

Published December 5, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.)  Many thanks. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

JOURNEY TO THE FRONT OF THE ROOM

“Tell me ‘bout when you was a boy, Daddy.”

            Henry hugged little Hattie, the baby of his thirteen children.  “Last time I got sold I mighta been nine, maybe ten.”

            “Play your banjo, Daddy.”  Her huge eyes shone. “Please.”

            “Only if’n you sings along.”

***

            After performing in carnivals and minstrel shows, Hattie McDaniel set her sights on Hollywood.

            In the 1940’s and 50’s the NAACP criticized the Oscar winning actress for her servile screen roles.  She defied her accusers saying, “Until you offer a better alternative, I’d rather portray a maid for $700 a week than be one for seven.”

 

12 October 2018

Published October 10, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.)  Many thanks. 

The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

CRY OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT

Ten-year-old Annie had never ridden on a train. Cousin Anastasia said it would take her and her brother to Springfield.  How odd. Stasia never kissed her before. What did Uncle John mean when he muttered, “Almshouse”?

            “D’ya think Nellie and Mama and Johnny are happy in Heaven, Jimmie?” Annie asked.

            His feverish snoring answered her. She wished she could see the scenery whizzing by.  

            “Not to worry, little one,” said her invisible faerie friend with an Irish brogue. “Someday you’ll do great things.”

            “Me? How? I’m only an ignorant blind girl nobody wants.”

            “Trust me, darlin’ Annie Sullivan. You will.”   

 

Helen Keller with Annie Sullivan Macy (Teacher)

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15 September 2017

Published September 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

 

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE HEART OF A CLOWN

             Danny grabbed five-year-old Joey by the hand and led him onto the stage.    

            “Sing it like we practiced,” Danny whispered.

            Gazing at the sea of strangers, Joey bit his lower lip and nodded. “Okay, Poppa.”

            Mama played the opening notes on the piano.   

            Joey burst into a rousing rendition of “Brother Can you Spare a Dime,” imitating Al Jolson.

            When he took his final bow to resounding applause, he tripped into a footlight which exploded and startled him. The fickle audience laughed.

            Sixty years later, Jerry Lewis told an interviewer, “I decided then and there I preferred laughter to applause.”

 

Thanks for the Laughter, Mr. Lewis

1926-2017           

 

           

 

 

TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO AUTHOR HAS GONE BEFORE

Published April 1, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today, April 1st,  Pegman takes us 225 million kilometers to Mars.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Be sure to wear your helmet, and watch out for storms!

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to J Hardy Carroll and Karen Rawson for hosting this mission to Mars.

Happy April One-eth. So it should surprise me that our host should choose a place like Mars? Below is my choice from the Pegman Prompt Buffet and my story, submitted for your approval. 

Genre: Memoir and Musing

Word Count: 150

WHERE NO AUTHOR HAS GONE BEFORE

            In the 1950’s, my parents, who owned a restaurant in downtown KC, would hand my brother a few dollars and say, “Jeff, take your sister to the movies.” This afforded them a couple of child-free hours.

            Jeff chose the movies. I never minded. We saw them all—The Mysterians, Forbidden Planet, and so on—while munching popcorn and jujubes. I don’t remember being bothered by the fact that, in many of the flicks, the actors’ lips didn’t sync with the dubbed voices.

            When I turned eleven, Jeff introduced me to “The Martian Chronicles.”  I fell in love with Bradbury’s golden eyed, bronzed skinned Martians.

            My love for sci-fi has continued over the years. Yet, my writing hasn’t bent much in that direction. Heinlein I’ll never be.

            However, given the unprecedented popularity of “The Martian,” perhaps I’d attract a larger audience if I’d written, “Please Say Kaddish for Me on Mars.”

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In any event, if you do like historical fiction about the Jewish pogroms in Eastern Europe at the turn of the twentieth century you might enjoy my trilogy 😉 :

23 September 2016

Published September 21, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Friday Fictioneers and Poppy

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Flowers from the Hill Thoreau

The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PINOCHLE CHARLIE’S DAUGHTER

            Rose Borach’s heart sank. “Fania, don’t quit school. You’re too smart to end up like your worthless father.”

            “I won’t.” The skinny seventeen-year-old glided across the room with the grace of a ballerina. “My grades stink and I’m still in the eighth grade.” She sang, “Give my regards to Broooaddwaaay!” With an exaggerated curtsy, she kissed Rose’s cheek. “Someday you’re gonna see my name in lights.”  

            “What name? Borax? Jenny Waters? Muddy Waters?”

***

            Two years later in 1910, nineteen-year-old Fania burst through Rose’s door and flashed her newly signed contract. “Look, Ma, I’m in the Ziegfeld Follies. Me! Fanny Brice!”

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For those not familiar with this great lady of the theater, may I introduce on of my childhood heroes.

11 December 2015

Published December 9, 2015 by rochellewisoff

Snorkeling in St. Thomas

Undersea St. Thomas 4 Meme

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FRIDAY FICTION CONCRIT SUBGROUP

If you want to be part of this group click the link above and follow the rules set forth by Jennifer Pendergast, the leader of this subgroup. No one is under obligation to participate nor is it necessary to dig something up to criticize for the sake of critique. Please keep it polite and friendly. 

The next photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. I appreciate the diverse offerings from fictioneers. Please be courteous and give credit to whom credit is due. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Luther Siler

PHOTO PROMPT © Luther Siler

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 98

FLIGHT OF FANCY

                                                                                                                                                                               10 February 1830

Dearest Lucy,

When I think about your advocacy of this wild man who sails from one continent to another in pursuit of his ambition I am filled with love.

The English engravers are tirelessly rendering my dream into reality. I marvel at nature when dawn presents her in richest, purest array and hope my humble paintings shall be my legacy for our two sons.

I could not do better than to travel and finish my collection of the ‘Birds of America.’

Across the ocean, ma chérie Mrs. Audubon, your devotion sustains me.

                        Affectionately yours,

                        John

To learn more click here.

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.Audubon print

 

Mrs._Audubon_-_wife_of_James_Audubon

Lucy Audubon

800px-John_James_Audubon_1826

John James Audubon

22 May 2015

Published May 20, 2015 by rochellewisoff

FF Lunch with MG and David S.

This past Saturday I had the pleasure of sharing lunch and laughter with fellow fictioneers David Stewart and Marie Gail Stratford. It’s always fun to meet the face behind the keyboard. 

And now, back to our regularly scheduled program. 😉

Flowers from the Hill Thoreau

Friday Fictioneers Farm Path

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The next photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Study it. What does it say to you? Remember, it’s about what you see, not what you’re looking at. 😉 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BLUE SHADOWS

            Dark clouds loomed overhead as the boy picked a cotton boll and stuffed it into the heavy sack on his shoulder. Rain, mingled with sweat, soaked his thin muslin shirt. He closed his eyes and listened to spirituals on the wind.

            Back in the cabin that night, he played his new guitar and sang to his grandmother who shook her head.

            “What I gonna do wit you, boy? Fifteen hard-earned dollars for a hunk-a wood and then you uses it for devil music.”

            “Dontcha see?” said Riley B. King. “I gotta. The blues is bleedin’ the same blood as me.”

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R.I.P. 

B B King

September 16, 1925 – May 14, 2015

 

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