Little music remains from my childhood memories. It may have something to do with the use of personal technology items nowadays. Back then, you listened to whatever was playing, however it was playing. My dad owned a reel to reel tape player and had amassed a few shelves of recorded music, most of it was Irish drinking wail along songs, and most of it got played on Sunday mornings (to take full advantage of the leftover drunk from Saturday night). I don’t recall my mom having any claim on any music at all. She was funny to listen to when she sang kids songs…the lyrics were hilariously rearranged and corrupted. I suspect giggling at her probably made her self conscious, so that she eventually quit trying to sing songs around us.
I had collected some records (LPs).I’m betting we got them at church rummage sales, so they were all out dated.I had the full soundtrack to Bambi.I still have not seen the movie production and I can still cringe when I hear the hunter in that part of the story.There is a long playing movie in my mind that accompanies the album,I’m ok leaving it that way.I also had Peter and the Wolf.I wonder now, if that somehow opened my mind to Tolstoy.Maybe.
I had a few 45s.Rambling Rose.Something by The Lettermen.And one by a woman with a pretty voice, I think it may have been Astrud Gilberto.They were harder to play,because I kept losing the little plastic insert that kept the record centered on the player.
When I was 4,my parents took me to a sitter’s apartment.We were living in Germany.Marion Doll lived in Mainz.I don’t have a sense of how far away it was or if they even spoke to me in a way that would help me understand what was happening.Thinking back, it may have been about the time my sister was born, so I would have just turned 4.I was a very small child.I remember being obedient and I remember thinking Marion was amazing.She was young, single.She wore short, straight skirts and tight sweaters.Her hair was smooth and her bangs didn’t move, they kept their formation swept to the side.She didn’t wear glasses and was always dressed to the shoes—heeled pumps, no hosiery.Her apartment was well appointed with modern furniture, wood floors.I only remember one room and it’s possible it was a studio. She had a view of other apartment buildings through the window and a dresser at the opposite wall,with a white coverlet on it and a record player. Marion may have had stacks of music to listen to, but I was quickly attached to The Mighty Quinn and I think I probably asked to listen to it repeatedly.I wonder if that was annoying for her and I wonder how many times I asked. A tendency I have never outgrown is the drive to do something myself, even if I am not skilled or granted permission.Like replaying the record.I pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser, because I was too short to reach the player.I stepped up on the drawer and the entire dresser,all the items on top of it,fell over in a series of crashes and by the time I processed what had happened, Marion’s shoes were hitting the wood floor,she had yanked me up by one arm and was pounding my backside with her other hand.I was left in a corner for the remainder of the stay.
I still love this song.It finds me on streaming radio feeds and if I need to pat the 4 year old me on the head,I can find it on youtube, and be The Girl From Ipanema for 3 minutes and 2 seconds.