We don’t talk about You-Know…

“‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno’ is the #1 song in the world right now,” the radio announcer said this morning. I watched my boys in my rearview mirror; their ears pricked up. “In case you don’t have kids and, for some reason, have no idea what we’re talking about, here’s a little clip from the song.”

© Disney

“Trust me,” he added, “Now, all day long at the office, you’ll be singing, ‘Bruno, no no no….'”

Have you heard the incredibly catchy “Bruno?” You should have now (the video’s right there). It’s a song from Disney’s 2021 animated film Encanto; the musical phenomenon of creative genius Lin-Manuel Miranda -a man already popular for creating In the Heights and Hamilton. From the Disney side, he’s responsible for the songs from “Moana.”

With so much success, what can he say except, “You’re Welcome?”

Bruno, whom we are not to talk about, is a member of a family almost-all blessed with magic talents. While his sisters heal through food and change the weather with mood, he’s able to see visions of the future. Understandably, this skill quickly makes Bruno a pariah of both the Family Madrigal and the local (normal) town. The film’s talentless protagonist and Bruno’s niece, Mirabel, seeks information to solve the mystery of their suddenly-failing magic.

While Encanto leaves me wishing for a clearer conflict and a more solid resolution, the music leaves me and my family wanting to play it again and again. Why?

Did you actually listen?

The tune of “Bruno” is a Salsa. It stomps along in a syncopated pattern, constantly pushing us to aural completion. Add the video of actual dancing and you can’t stop your feet from tapping.

Me; I’m interested in discussing its addictive appeal. We writers need to take note. If we can create the same movement in an unresolved conflict, think how happy readers will be at resolution. Consider how word choice can orchestrate any scene like the steps of a dance. Imagine offbeat poetic meter!

Do you see it? Have you intentionally crafted prose or verse this way? What’s your favorite Disney song?


Here’s last week:
Wednesday, January 26: Discussed the strange people who might like cats in “Dogs or Cats, and is it all Toxoplasmosis?

Thursday, January 27: Announced the winner of the Terrible Poetry Contest, Matt.

Friday, January 28: Friday Photo. It’s a bit undead.
Also, announced this week’s Terrible Poetry Contest. PLEASE ENTER. There’s still time.

Saturday, January 29: Tried the Golden Shovel form with my own poem.

Sunday, January 30: A quote from Life of Pi.

Monday, January 31: “I’m a Mormon, So” I am a teetotaler.

Tuesday, February 1: Wrote a folk song about 49ers -not the football team.

©2022 Chel Owens

The Festival of Trees

Instead of writing your ear off this evening, I wanted to share a Christmastime tradition of mine.

Ever since I was a wee girl scout, I have attended a local charity event called The Festival of Trees. People donate decorated Christmas trees, gingerbread houses, wreaths, quilts, and items for auction. Every. single. penny raised goes to Primary Children’s Medical Center.

Many of the trees are in memory of another; many for loved ones who have passed on.

My second child was born approximately 9 weeks early, so I have a special place in my heart for these stories. The Festival of Trees often causes me uncontrollable public crying when we walk around, especially if I ever read the back of the name cards where the person’s story is typed up.

From volunteering as a girl scout, to pushing around my oldest son back when he didn’t walk, to chasing my four boys away from the chain separators today, I’ve gone nearly every year for twenty years. For those of you who cannot attend, I’ve taken a few awesome phone pictures.

Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

First, my favorite gingerbread “houses.”




Now, onto a few trees. There are rows and rows of full-sized, decorated trees.













These last two are miniature trees.




I hope to decorate and donate a tree of my own someday, probably in memory of my son. I’ve gotta give people a tree that ends with a happy story, after all.