Roaming the countless choices on the guide on my new HDTV 58 inch screen with surround sound that could rattle the windows I happen
upon a PBS rerun of the Lawrence Welk show and sing a few bars to an ancient tune with the
Champagne Music Makers and once again…
It's 1954 and I am sitting on
the worn sofa with my grandmother.
I lived with her most of my growing up life, her name was Ethel but most
of us called her Nanny.
On many a Friday evening
we would be together; Pop at his Eagles Fraternal club playing poker; Mom out with friends. And after the dinner dishes were put away we usually watched “our programs,” - but this night as we did on occasion, Nanny announced - “I am in the mood...let’s
listen to some of our music”.
She brought some
cookies and milk from the kitchen and then got out her collection of big 78 rpm records
and her old record player for our Karioke Night - before the name was a household word.
The sound out of a single
six inch speaker was far from the quality my iphone has today – but we thought
it was just fine; amazing how technology would change my hearing in just a few
decades.
One song per side of the record
was standard for the real "oldies", and they were made of very breakable clay it seemed. Nanny cared for them like Egyptian artifacts. Nanny’s newer renditions were imprinted on both
sides of the disc. She would read
the RCA red label adorned with the drawing of the famous dog listening to his master voice, announce the tune, we would belt out a song, I followed her lead as she knew all the words and then she would flip it.
And what an eclectic collection
she had invested in over the years – a very scratchy Caruso singing about a crying clown; Deck of Cards, a
dittie that had a rule for living suggested by each card; Bringing in the
Sheaves (what exactly was a sheave? I
never did find out); Deep Purple (which always made her a bit misty-eyed. I asked why once and she said, "Never you mind"); The Pennsylvania Polka (which always triggered her to comment that we had “Polish relatives by marriage…”)
This was just the top of the pile – she had
about 100 more.
Tonight she said, “Let’s
sing Christmas Carols!” “In June I
asked???” "Why not" - was her response as
she rifled through her treasured stack.
We sang Christmas in Killarney by Dennis
Day; Frosty by Gene Autry; It’s Beginning to Look Like Christmas by
Perry Como and Jimmy Boyd singing I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.
“Nanny, next time can I hear some of the
scratchy ones?” I asked. “Sure Calvin, I
like them all the same.” We ended our Christmas in June with the Philadelphia Symphony's sensitive rendition of Silent Night. And our night of singing was done.
Pop came home and gave
Nanny a five bucks – he was a big winner for a change. She put the records away and I we all went to bed...
An evening of`without TV mayhem of today - Without Facebook or a text
message or a self absorbed selfie or a picture of someone's food or a streaming YouTube prank – those indeed were the days, sweet innocent days
that will never be again.
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Thanks for commenting - I love to here your Millville Memories.