Saturday, September 17, 2011

Memories of Music

These days, I am getting ready for my 45th Class Reunion.  A lot of us are as our focus begins to point towards next weekend's very special and long anticipated gathering.  Plans for the Reunion are taking shape.  There is something for everyone.  The Art Show which is part of the reunion is coming together very well, both my art part and the overall whole. It always begins to feel good when a "vision" for something one has never done before begins to take shape. 

In the middle of all of this have been some trips down memory lane for someone who grew up in the 1950s and 60s. That includes music.  Why is it that music takes one back to a time and place as if you are still present there in that shape and form?  Those memories encapsulate even some of the smallest of details. Those memories have always been and will always be a part of who we are.

I absolutely loved "How Much Is the Doggie in the Window?" as a child. The song was released by Patti Page in 1952.  I would have been 4.

Perhaps my fascination for that song came from being in the presence of Collie puppies since I was wee small.  My Uncle Russell, Aunt Louise, and Cousin Russell had a kennel on their little Farm which for me was immense. I would often sit among the big open boxlike area with the wiggly warm puppies.  Perhaps it came from having a beloved Collie puppy who was given to me by them as a gift.  Maybe it comes from an innate fascination and wonder Humans seem to have with puppies and babies in all forms. 

I never saw the YouTube version of this song. I just sat there with utter fascination right beside Mother's magical plastic phonograph.  It was dark in color (brown?), small, almost a cube in shape, played "45's". I would watch the record go round and round, listen to the music, sing along, sit and sway like a puppy.  And I waited until it was done, carefully returning the needle arm back to the start and making sure with my stubby and awkward hands that the needle did not scratch.  Just thinking about it makes me feel small, warm and loved right beside that beloved record player.

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