As the wind whips up as it is wont to do out here, or caresses our cheeks on milder days to come, I wonder are we ever at peace with it? The wind I mean. Does it howl you to sleep, or annoy you as the shutters bang or the dog barks because the wind knocked something on the porch over in the dead of night? I have to say I am in the latter group. I’d rather the rain musically lull me to dreamland. The wind, not so much. It’s angry, intrusive and it wrecks our hair, let’s tell the truth.

How ironic that I have two good friends who were named after exactly that atmospheric condition. One is a Gail and the other a Gale, though both share the forceful wind as their moniker. Gail Storm (yes, that’s her real name), is a lifelong friend. We met as teenagers while working at the Sands Motel back in the late 70’s.. Gail is now an awesome vocalist and blues musician, and I got to see her turn into what I knew she always would become. An uppity blues woman. She didn’t know what a force she was back then. She knows now. She has recognized her gale.

The other Gale, I met some 15 or so years ago when our sons became good friends and fellow skateboarders. We talked  in my kitchen,with a halfpipe in our gaze and a dozen boys in my backyard doing their thing. Gale is a gardener, incredible cook and baker and a dead ringer for Cate Blanchett in the right light. She’s a redhead and has a great laugh. And she’s at one with her gale, no problem.
 

Gail is blonde, lithe and always singing. You can hear her in the morning, when she spends the night after a jam session. Making coffee in my kitchen and singing the whole time. Or softly tickling the ivories on that junky piano I got for free. She makes it sound like a baby grand, I swear.

Gail has cats and she lives part time in Montauk, home of the pit parties ala Strorm. Gale, lives in a charming house circa 1700, around the corner from me, but she works in Montauk. The Gails/Gales have never met. I aim to change that this  summer, when Gail plays at her gigs out East. Book her, lads, she’ll rock the house. Gailstormmusic.com

The Gails/Gales will instantly like each other. Though Gail is single and Gale married for a very long time, they will have common ground. Their attitude for one. Easy as pie. Their humor, for another.  Their contagious laugh. Gail was called Gail the snail, by childhood friends or family because she never hurries. I mean she gets overwhlemed and over scheduled, sure, like we all do, but she just takes her sweet time, anyway. Finishes the conversation, the song, whatever. It’s admirable in this frenzied world.

Gale is no rusher either. She’ll tell you a story and it will take as long as it takes. And perhaps go off on another tangent , which frankly doesn’t bother me at all, as I am known to make a story last myself. Besides, storytelling is a lost art. The Gails/Gales get that. Don’t you like them already?

I live vicariously through Gail and her dating escapades. E Harmony.com? Are you kidding me? They should call it:  E hey, I am full of baloney and this picture I sent is me in the third grade where my mental state has remained by the way.com.

 I don’t  envy that madness, but we have a good laugh over it. The other Gale takes me on a  nostalgic journey through Greenwich Village in the late 60’s, where she lived for a time. I am all ears and get the big mug of tea for that one.

The Gails/Gales are fearless. Gail slides into her Subaru and she’s off to Blues Week down south. Gale jumps up into her pick up truck and she’s down to the Y for a swim, like the mermaid she is. In my book, that’s conquering a major fear factor. Not the water, but the donning of a bathing suit with pale winter, we’re not 20 anymore skin. Scary. This fazes Gale not in the least.

You hang around these Gails/Gales, you begin to feel a bit freer yourself. It’s got everything to do with their attitude. Easy breezy, but not airhead. Don’t let the blonde fool you, Gail is a brunette at heart. Gale the latter, is a redhead, as I mentioned. Do I need to explain their fiery disposition and sass? I didn’t think so. Oh and these women are hot, make no mistake.  And I didn’t have to “kiss a girl,” to know that.

What really made me write this Gail/Gale tribute to begin with, is not just the fact that I love them both. But the fact that they live so graciously in the moment. Upon sending the Gails/Gales the wrong e-mail the other day, neither was rattled in the least.  Just temporarily confused.  I had one Gale going to the airport (she didn’t, thankfully) and the other Gail, meeting me during the day, which we never ever do. Late night gigs and all. They took it in stride and put it up to perimenopause brain  sieve syndrome. How cool are they?

Does their name suit them?   I don’t know. They could easily have been called Balmy or Breezy or even Willow. Yet, Gale/Gail fits soemhow.  No one ever knows if their given name will match their disposition, do they? In some cases ,it’s dead on. Others, not so much. In the end, will Apple be a peach? Will Sunday, be more of a Monday morning girl? What about Moses? Will he grow a big long beard when he’s able? Maybe he will be more of a Cain? Who knows.

I always desired a unique name. Something dramatic like Cassandra for instance. Or Irish, like Shannon or Orleigh. Instead I got stuck with being named after a Frank Sinatra song,, Nancy with the laughing face. Big deal. And what if I didn’t feel like laughing.? Then I got nicknamed Happiness, for my moody serious nature as a teen. And Sarah Bernhardt, for the dramatic outbursts. So what is truly in a name anyway.? My sister is called Joey after Pal Joey, a Sinatra movie, though she spells it Joie. My other sister, Linda, is named for a Perry Como song. My mother is named after Shirley Temple, but she dropped the y.
I still think it’s cool to be named for the weather, like the Gails/Gales.

Sunshine wouldn’t suit me a’tall. Trust me, you don’t live with me. If I had to choose the name my father would pick?  Nor’easter. And then everyone would call me Nori for short,. I think I kind of like it. As for the Gales/Gails? They’ll  love it.