I remember realizing that radios play songs more than once...
I was sitting in my sister's bedroom, probably 6 or 7 years old. I don't know exactly what I was doing there, but she hadn't kicked me out yet--let's say I was watching her brush her long, black hair. She had her little transistor radio turned to one of the stations that Dad thought was stupid (he never actually forbade us from much, but he'd let us know his opinion of our activities at every opportunity).
A song began that I'd heard before! I remembered it because it was about my favourite boxer, Mohammed Ali. Dad would let me watch the boxing matches on TV with him, and everybody knew Mohammed Ali was the King! "Mohammed, Mohammed Ali, floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee..."
"Carol!! I've heard this song before!! I am such a lucky duck!!"
"Yeah, they play it all the time."
"They play songs more than once?"
Carol threw back her head and laughed her teen-age laugh. "Oh, Paula, you crack me up!"
I sat on her bed listening to the rest of the song, marvelling at how much there was about the world that I still didn't know.
I was sitting in my sister's bedroom, probably 6 or 7 years old. I don't know exactly what I was doing there, but she hadn't kicked me out yet--let's say I was watching her brush her long, black hair. She had her little transistor radio turned to one of the stations that Dad thought was stupid (he never actually forbade us from much, but he'd let us know his opinion of our activities at every opportunity).
A song began that I'd heard before! I remembered it because it was about my favourite boxer, Mohammed Ali. Dad would let me watch the boxing matches on TV with him, and everybody knew Mohammed Ali was the King! "Mohammed, Mohammed Ali, floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee..."
"Carol!! I've heard this song before!! I am such a lucky duck!!"
"Yeah, they play it all the time."
"They play songs more than once?"
Carol threw back her head and laughed her teen-age laugh. "Oh, Paula, you crack me up!"
I sat on her bed listening to the rest of the song, marvelling at how much there was about the world that I still didn't know.
7 comments:
So, I heard rumours that you got back on Wednesday, what's it like returning home? ;) Welcome Back!
I remember putting the transitor next to my ear when the song "Hot Buttered Popcorn" would come on...
You've told me that before...its like a repeat or something.
I remember Wolfman Jack's show, I'd listen to him before I was a teen and wonder about how big the music world was and long his hair and beard must've been.
"Sunday Night Graffiti with the Wolfman"
that's pretty funny.
it's funny the things we think and learn
Lately I've been trying to write some stuff on my blog that is set in 1965. I've been trying to remember how people talked then - what slang they used that we don't use now, stuff like that. So my ear is sensitive.
I think the catchphrase "how (any adjective here) is that?" wasn't in use as early as 1974. I know this is sort of pedantic - just that it hit my ear wrong. I think it's more of an eighties or even a nineties thing. I wonder how people can check on something like that.
By the way, it was just forty years ago that Muhammed Ali was arrested for refusing to be inducted into the Army. A man of principle.
What I probably said was something like: "I'm a lucky duck!!" or "Aren't I lucky?"
I was a nerdy little geek. LOL!
Paula nerdy? Impossible!
Nice to have you back blogging again. You were missed.
This is a gentle memory...I like it. A little snippit of a few moments long ago.
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