lgmwriting

Eve of Destruction/Barry McGuire

I watched Ken Burns’ documentary about Vietnam and I still haven’t stopped talking and thinking about it. I was planning a wedding during that time and visions of wedding dresses were floating in my head. I did wake up in time for Watergate, though.

As I watched the many episodes of this stunning piece of history I was — and now I can’t think of the right word. I was flattened, outraged, appalled. It was an effort to not castigate myself for ignoring the whole thing. I keep reminding myself that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing at that time in my life.

There was a right-ness to the soundtrack in the documentary; I was familiar with many of these songs. I listen to them now and I experience a kind of envy of the raw, fresh, intelligent anger and fear that these morally upright people were trying to communicate: at least they were all too aware of what was going on while I was…hiding, I guess.

The Eastern world, it is explodin’/violence flarin’ and bullets loadin’

You’re old enough to kill but not for votin’/ you don’t believe in war, then what’s that gun your totin’….

And you tell me—-over and over and over and over again, my friend/You don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction?

I didn’t go to our reunion but reading the comments and looking at the pictures have had a strong effect on me. I have known people who went to pieces after attending reunions; I vowed to never return after the 20th and I sincerely hope that everyone who went did not go through that.

I grew up, literally from the time I was still sitting in a high chair–it would be a bit of a tight squeeze now!!–and listening to my mother, telling me that someday, when I grew up, I would go there. We lived in the upper part of a duplex on Alderson Street where there was a clear view of the school. All my aunts and uncles went there. But what stands out is my father knowing so much about history. It turned out that there was a Dr. Quatrrochi who was chairman of the History Department when I went there and who I had for American History; she had been my father’s teacher also. And then it happened several times–my auntand uncles remembered some of my teachers.

Allderdice stands for a lot; it wasn’t just a building where we were imprisoned 6 hours every day.  The teaching was of such high quality that when I went to Pitt, I was disappointed. The work was easier and the class times were boring. At Allderdice most of our teachers were wide awake and on fire. There are a number of exceptions to this, I am sure.

I hurt my mother’s feelings when I told her, years later, that Pitt was a “playground” and a place where we were free, having lots of fun, and of course it was the first years of the Sexual Revolution. None of this is anybody’s fault. But I am certainly grateful to have had those years–1962 – 1968–in such a place as Taylor Allderdice.

 

Be My Baby/The Ronettes/Phil Spector Wall of Sound

There are a lot of reasons why I liked the girl groups, especially The Crystals and the The Ronettes and how Phil Spector produced the music. I am a sort of shy person with a quiet manner. So I tend to like, sometimes, music that’s loud and “in your face.” And these girl groups sang songs about love and loss but not in a fragile way; they were in love in a big way or they just lost their love and they were feeling horrible. Finally, I liked the Wall of Sound for the same reason I liked the groups. Practically blows your head apart…

I had a secret romance a long, LONG time ago. This person was what is called “non-attainable.” No future in it–would hurt others if they knew–but, for a time, intense and romantic to the max. The truth was–if we were able to be a couple out in the open we would have made a pretty big impact on others.

The night we met I knew I needed you so…And if I had the chance I’d never let you go…so won’t you say you love me…I’ll make you so proud of me..We’ll make them turn their heads, every place we go…

 

The Temptations

My Girl

What can you say about this multi-talented Motown group that always wore fancy clothes in concerts?

I have a special attachment to My Girl. When I was a mobile therapist I had to visit “my kids” in both their homes and schools to observe their behaviors. One Friday afternoon I went to a school to see one of my favorite kids but I was told that the whole school was in the auditorium, watching a talent show. I love watching student productions of plays and concerts. They make me feel good. So I sneaked into the darkened auditorium to watch the show; it was Friday afternoon, my work week was over, and I got to do something I like a lot.

The second act was a group of  8 11 year olds, boys and girls, mixed race, performing a very intricate dance to My Girl. These dance moves were incredible; there are no other words to describe them.

I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day/When it’s cold outside I’ve got the month of May/I guess you’ll say/ What can make me feel this way/ My girl, My girl, My girl….talkin’ ’bout my girl...

If you’re fortunate you’ve had this in your life at least once…

Little Surfer/Dance, Dance,Dance/Beach Boys

I always loved these guys. Their tight harmonies and the deeply romantic lyrics squeezed my heart so much that I could barely breathe. So there will be more than one song from the Beach Boys that I want to write about.

I’m almost positive that Little Surfer was Brian Wilson’s first song. I’m pretty sure that I saw him being interviewed on television when he said this. Brian Wilson’s high pitched singing which I think could be called falsetto had an interesting effect on me. It was just so sweet and tender and it corresponded with what was stirring in my heart.

Little Surfer isn’t just about love and surfing. It’s about a kind of love that I experienced for the first time as a TAHS student. I had been on dates for a few years with very nice boys; these dates were pre- arranged, rather stiff events that you got dressed up for. But in my junior year something changed. I began spending time with one boy and it wasn’t like dating. What’s my favorite line in Little Surfer?

We would ride the surf together and our love would grow-–in my woody I will take you everywhere I go…

So it was a situation where you spent your weekends together with each other and friends, and if one of our mothers needed a loaf of bread or something to be picked up from the dry cleaners, you did it together. It was an almost family type of feeling where you felt enclosed, safe, and found endless silly things to laugh about.

Dance, Dance, Dance is another one of my favorites because it’s so expressive of that kind of energy you have when you’re that age; and now here comes the kind of crazy part. At the end of the song Brian takes you on this roller coaster of sound–very hard to describe! Ahhhhhhhhh..ahahahah..ahahahah  oooooo/dance dance, dance dance, dance dance YEAH…YEAH….aHHHHH……

For a long, long time I had a double CD of their greatest hits…I played the Dance song over and over to hear that crazy wailing at the end. One day, sick of being stuck in the past–that’s the way I saw it at the time–I was walking along the sidewalk in Bloomsburg and dropped the CDs into a trash can. Time to move on?

 

 

The Drifters

Up On The Roof/Under The Boardwalk

The song Up On The Roof has a special story attached to it. When Peter and I had our business we had our studio and workshop on the top floor of a vacant and huge industrial building. There wasn’t much business around that area so the rent was cheap. Don’t even think about what it was like, moving all our heavy equipment from our old, smaller work space. The top floor had one huge advantage; you could walk through a door and stand–yes, up on the roof.

And what a view it had…on sunny days we took our lunches out there. My work table sat near the magic door to the sky. When problems arose–and what small business doesn’t have problems?–it was a nice break to stand out there and realize how small our concerns were.

As for Under The Boardwalk–this particular song made me feel slightly clunky because we lived in Pittsburgh and there was no boardwalk. You had to be from New York or New Jersey or California–someplace where the cool kids had all the time in the world to go under the boardwalk and make love.

Dedicated to the TAHS Class of 1968

 

 

 

Dedicated to TAHS class of 1968

The Rolling Stones were and still are a powerful rock group. Haven’t they been together WAY longer than any other? I hope I’m not wrong about this but they appeared pretty much when the Beatles did. I do remember reading in some teenage magazine that “good” girls liked the Beatles and “bad” girls should be drawn towards Mick Jagger.  I thought then that I didn’t like the Rolling Stones; you know how our minds worked then. Anyway, mine worked like a sponge that absorbed bits and pieces of assorted information. I wanted to be good so I was a Beatles fan.

However, there is a Stones song that I always loved: Paint It Black. I just checked–it was released in May of 1966. I would listen to the words and feel the pain. It was easy to feel the pain. Mick Jagger’s voice was different than in his other songs; it was more melodic and not so much loud noise.  Another beautiful song this group recorded was As Tears Go By.

My riches can’t buy everything/I want to hear the children sing/All I hear is the sound/ Of rain falling on the ground/I stand and watch as tears go by…

I know there are more, many more songs from charismatic Mick Jagger and I will research this. But my aim in writing these pieces is to make them short and interesting.

“There’s no time to lose, I heard her say/Catch your dreams before they slip away/Dying all the time/ You will lose your dreams and lose your mind…”

Ruby Tuesday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated to TAHS class of 1968

We had the music.

My 50th high school reunion is approaching and it’s making me think about music; real rock and roll music that threaded itself in and out of our lives. This was sixties music and I will quote Elton John on this subject:

I never had me a better time and I guess I never will. (from Crocodile Rock)

Of course I’m happy to say that I did have “better times” after the sixties. But for now, if I’ve got to be reminded that it’s 50 years since I graduated from Allderdice High School, that music floats naturally into my consciousness.

Where do I start? In the past, when I went on blogging sprees, I wrote about some of these iconic performers and the songs they sang. So I may be overlapping but I’ll try not to do that.

I loved The Association. I loved their harmonies, their weird images, and of course their quietly passionate lyrics…”Cherish is the word I use to describe/the feeling that I have hiding here for you inside…” I actually loved two different people at the time– when this song was popular– and the song made my head spin, like in The Exorcist. Also Along Comes Mary…my friend Iris and I would flop onto her two single beds, listen to the lyrics again and again and again and try to understand it. We were so innocent; we didn’t know then what that song was really about.  Finally Windy; I have a strong emotional attachment to that one. It was playing on the radio of my boyfriend’s mother’s car while we drove, way too fast, to the Pittsburgh airport to see a friend leave for a summer away.

Finally, in the summer of 1998 my teenage son was working in a convenience store and they played sixties music in there all day and night. Michael said to me: Mom, I think I understand now why all these stations play oldies. It’s just that it’s the best music there is.

I have to admit that I love writing using the blogging style. It’s a perfect outlet for somebody like me. But I realize that I am far, far from consistent. As my closest friends know, I get excited and involved in facebook and writing a blog; but then something always happens, or maybe I should say that “I allow something to happen.” I start to feel like I’m pushy, bragging, etc. These are just excuses I make to myself because I’m shy.

The truth is that I live–by choice–in a rural area of Pennsylvania where there are more cows and horses than people. It’s quite, quite easy to become withdrawn because, simply, there are not a lot of people around to associate with.

So what is left? Other than resigning myself to a practically hermit-like existence? The Internet and to be precise, facebook. That means I have to figure out why I get so weird and strange when I look at the pictures and posts. I’ve read that a lot of people have negative reactions to facebook…it’s mostly envy, wanting to measure up to others’ accomplishments. But that all changes when you realize–when I realized–that this is a very effective way of staying touch. And that means I have to quit being childish–and do some growing up? I believe that, after much pondering, that facebook is a really good thing.

At my desk I’m surrounded by photos of loved ones, photo albums that hold pictures of loved ones, precious mementos of my beloved son Michael’s heroism, and my collection of owls. I’m proud to say that once my husband and son learn that I’m interested in something, they rush out and find everything they can to fill this need/interest. I’m very proud of that. Right now there is literally no more room for photos, owls, and loved objects.

My favorite photo is a picture of my father at the age of 22, sitting on the steps of my mother’s house on Mirror Street in Pittsburgh, blowing a kiss to my mother…they had just gotten engaged. This picture watches over me and though there’s considerable dust and animal hair in my house, these things are kept pretty clean.

No matter what happens, I’m going to keep on posting and reading about what’s happening to other people. You can look at cows and mountains for just so long.

 

My father and I had, sadly, a short span of time to get to know each other. However, this is a story that says it all.

My father was very strict and stern, the most strict father out of all my friends and family. Up until the age of 14 I accepted his role of disciplinarian and didn’t even bother to fight him.

However, at 14 I began going to dances sponsored by B’nai Brith Girls and its male counterpart; I would meet 16 year old boys at these dances and some of them would offer to drive me home. All the other girls were allowed to be driven home by 16 year old boys who just got their driver’s license…except me. I was enraged!! I was told that when the dance was ending I had to call home and get one of my parents to come for me. I can still remember being just so furious about this; I stood, toe-to-toe with my very tall, very stern father and demanded my full rights as a young girl growing up who wanted to meet boys.

My father didn’t yell at me or punish me for trying to defy him; I was expecting the ceiling to fall in! He just kept saying: “I know what 16 year old boys think about and you don’t.” “Just tell your friends, if they tease you, that you have a rotten old man. My shoulders are broad and I can take it.”

I can still remember this scene. My father wasn’t angry; he was enjoying this and his eyes were twinkling! I intuited that he must be enjoying this. I also had to admit to myself that I was enjoying it too!

He was thinking: “What a cute, spirited, little firecracker she’s turned out to be.”

I was thinking: “What a man; I thought everybody cared about other peoples’ opinions. But he says ‘his shoulders are broad and he can take it.'”

It’s obvious what Sigmund Freud would say about this but let’s leave him out of it. We, my father and I, loved each other. And, after this, I was allowed to go in cars with 16 year old boys.