Open Thread - 01-13-23 - Nine Volt Heart
We all travel back through time. Where the temporal may not pass, the minds-eye goes freely.
What is it that can cause a ten year old boy to pause? Having already survived the fallout from the hydrogen bomb test on Bikini Atoll, the premier of The Mickey Mouse Club, potential hip dislocation dancing to Heartbreak Hotel, invention of the Frisbee, the creation of NASA, Fidel Castro coming to power, Bill Mazeroski's home run, Yuri Gagarin, Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday, that fateful day in Dealy Plaza, and 1964.
The summer of '64. A fine year to be ten years old. Little did I know what was about to happen on that beautiful sun drenched summer day. I can remember it so well because I recall exactly where I was and where I was living at the time. I was alone in the back yard. The cute girl next door was actively ignoring me, by trying to get my attention. My mind was on Cassius Clay and killing nazis. I had just pulled a Pete Rose and a Mickey Mantle from a couple of packs of baseball cards, gum in mouth and pet beagle at my feet. School was a distant memory and life was as it should be for a boy my age. And then it happened.
An event so seminal in a young man's life that all things subsequent are newly defined as a linear division between the alpha and omega. An event that has shades that color the entirety of a life yet sung. An event so revealing it walks with him through life, as an expressive companion to his soul.
I had my parent's transistor radio with me that day. A song came on that I hadn't heard before. It was an instrumental that out and out floored me when I heard it. It was Green Onions. I had been listening to music most of my life but nothing hit me like that song, that day. I was hooked. As the famous lyric says,"I fell out on the floor"!
That night while lying in bed trying to sleep, I remembered the awesome Rocket Radio I had seen at the neighborhood grocery store, remember those stores? Dammit, now I had to have one. I bugged my dad until he relinquished. It didn't work exceptionally well, but lucky for me we lived within 100 miles of Chicago and WLS came in crystal clear. That little radio went everywhere with me for the rest of the summer, and then later, to school.
The die was cast. Music had captured my soul. Before the end of the summer of '64 I had my first instrument: A set of Rogers drums, double mounted/floor tom/green pearl. I think my parents may have regretted that. I loved them. I beat the snot out of them. I wish I still had them. A few years later I picked up my first blues harp. And many years later, the dobro.
We carry music with us throughout our lives. Through the ups and downs, the victories and defeats, the joys and the sorrows. It's a language understood by all. As we change music changes with us. Music has changed me. If I were unable to define myself using words, I could tell you who I am with music.
A most joyous noise!
You click it on and let the music start.
I oft quote this anonymous adage, let me add one minor correction:
When a man dies a
librarydiscography dies with him. ~Unknown