It has been a FOREVER since I posted. Summer has been busy and I, lazy. I was uh-Thinkin' --- I should just write down things as I dream of them. This one for instance:
We listen to Ed Wallace on 570 AM every Sat. morn. He is suppose to be a car guy - but he writes other type articles for several major news places. I find the show interesting even if he is a bit egocentric. Lovable guy in my estimation. His website is www.Insideautomotive.com There is a lot of stuff at that site - and he doesn't seem to be either Democrat (boo) or Republican (yea).
Today he is talking about some study which shows that the music of your youth is the "best" because it comes from your youth. It seems your brain releases endor-phones (sp) and other pleasure stuff when memories of your youth come up; thus, the music is the best. Make up the rest of the story for yourself. That could be why my father liked Lawrence Welk and we didn't / couldn't.
So this type of thought brought a song / stone to my mind which came from my 9th grade year - I think. It could have been the 10th grade. Nah, it was the 9th grade.
My romance with my wife started in the 8th grade, mid-8th grade. She was a 7th grader in our JHS band. I was 1st chair cornet; she was 1st chair alto saxophone. Sitting next to me was Thomas Taylor - I wrote about him in an earlier missive, probably with this part of the stone. Sitting next to my wife, Brenda Joy Cooper, was Nancy Cole. Thomas was taken with Nancy; he always talked about her.
Now somewhere in Thomas' mind, he must have thought that I had more liberty in my life than I did cause he wanted me to show an interest in Brenda Joy, double date - I didn't even know her name at this time - afterall, this was Band; I was busy playing my horn and dodging spit wads. So, with his prodding I did talk to her somehow, and we never moved on to anyone else.
Marching contest back in those days was in the spring. You'd go to concert and sightreading; then, in the afternoon, they would start marching contest. That had to be a tough day for directors. Our JHS went to concert contest that year at Tech in Lubbock. I could be wrong about the contest location. Doesn't matter really. We JHS kids ended up on the Tech campus looking around and visiting the museum. Strange what one can remember at times.
That evening we went to the Lubbock stadium and watched the bands march including our Levelland H.S. marching band. By this time brother Jim was in the marching band. He had described the marching routine for me. Why? I don't know. In those days a band had to include specific marching maneuvers: flanks, columns, obliques, etc. The band lined up on the far sideline and marched towards the judges. They completed all required maneuvers before reaching the hash mark. Then, they spent the rest of their show just doing what they wanted. Me thinks that released them to be more innovative.
So I sat with Brenda Joy and Thomas sat beside Nancy in the stands. I was so innocent. At one point trying to hold her hand, I laid my hand on her knee - she was wearing our red wool band pants. Thomas was all excited because I had made "The Move." I didn't even realize that I was being aggressive. Embarrassed, I moved the hand. Strange what we remember.
I do remember that she would not let me hold her hand in public or if ANYONE were near. It was a battle to do that. This brings me to the song. One evening the Methodist youth went to Lubbock for a skating party - roller skates (not blades or ice folks). My wife was a good skater. I lacked certain skills other than going straight ahead.
She and I rode in the back seat of Sharon Allison's cadillac. Sharon's mom drove. That was luxury...a Cadillac. We rode over there together and back in the back seat. I cannot remember if we held hands while skating - I suppose that would have been socially correct. On to The Song.
I know you won't find this as funny as we. On the way home, the back seat was dark, really dark. I made the move for her left hand. She pulled away. I tried again. Just then on the radio, the song: "Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Gooooo.....Lover. Set me free, Set me free....." She and I looked at each other and giggled. I made the move again, and scored.
That's it. Nobody said all blogs had to be earth shaking.
A "STONE" is a family word for a personal story or thought, not quite an essay or short story. We moved to central Texas to be near a daughter. We are down to only one wirehair dachshund - Sadie. (Goodbye in 2021 to Oscar the ball boy and Bruno the larger twin) & my wife -- penned by a retired Texas H.S. band director - just nonsense thoughts unrelated to each other or anything other than what's happening and comments.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
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