Monkey Music

I'm taking a break from art this week to bring five days of my musical history. I have not, nor shall I, list the names of any but the very famous. Try not to get too confused, and I'll attempt to make everything as clear as possible.

Phase 3

            In 1960, my mother and I moved back into my grandmother’s house. Like times before, something wonderful happened when my aunt purchased a red and white colored stereo from the Western Auto. I didn’t know stereo from mono or anything else, but a shiny new record player was good news. Equally good was a cache of new music she had bought to fully appreciate the stereo experience.

            This was all, on many levels, a very big deal to my six year old self. Just looking at the machine, with its tiny, LP accommodating spindle, and dual speakers hanging from little hinges, was a nearly religious experience. That I was not allowed, at first, to touch it, made it even more godlike. The touching restriction vanished quickly, in part, no doubt, to my constant needling to hear music.

            One of the great LP’s she bought was Ray Charles’ Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music. Like everyone else, I loved Georgia, but nothing compared to the opening of I Can’t Stop Loving You. It gave me the same sort of feeling that several Elvis songs had earlier. I was all in whenever it played.

            Another of her noteworthy purchases was The Button-Down Mind of Bob Newhart. Since I watched television, comedy was nothing new, but even my young ears heard something different. A news writer from the local paper once commented to me at a party that I had a sense comic timing. True or not, it is due in no small measure to Bob Newhart. I listened so often that I learned many of the entire routines by heart.

            The stereo also allowed me to revisit music I had lost touch with for a couple of years. Nearly all the records I had previously enjoyed were still lying around, so I had a go at the lot. In addition, my collection of kids’ records, useless since my player’s demise, made another round. I felt like I was back on top.

            My aunt and I grew very close during that time. She baby sat me on Friday nights, which began with a trip to the restaurant where my grandmother cooked the evening meals, and where she taught me how to consume, in a mannerly way, my dinner. We didn’t have a car, so we walked the mile or so to and from Maxwell’s Restaurant on Happy Top, at times in very cold weather. When we got home we always fought over whether to watch Route 66 or The Flintstones. She also took me to The First Baptist Church, where she taught a class in crafts, every Sunday. Eventually, as young adults are wont to do, she left home for other vistas. Fortunately for me she left the stereo behind.