Nov. 29, 2003 - 20:36 PST

THE WONDERING JEW

Radio

Radio in my early years was a wonderful thing that Dad would turn on and tune the station. Music, great, wonderful music. Pianos playing in our house, symphony orchestra right there to be heard by my eager ears. I guess my preferences and likes came from my parents at least as far as listening to the radio was concerned. They probably began to be shaped by the records that Mom and Dad had. I would wind up the Victrola and listen to them by the hour. I remember Dad telling me that they enjoyed the music but they were tired of hearing the same things over and over. But, that was my favorite music. Kids and parents, two different examples of humanity.

When I became a latch key kid our radio was my companion 'til Mom and Dad came home from work in the evening. I was supposed to come home from school, stay in the house and do the bit of housework that was my duty to take care of. No kids to be brought into the house to play. I was pretty young and still was Little Bill to my imaginary Big Bill companion, we had long talks over the different programs we were listening to.

In that small house our radio took me the world over. Music was my wings to fly to far places amid exotic settings. I remember the first time I heard Viennese waltzes on the radio it was love at first listening. Cowboy music was separate from Country music then. I had my favorite songs in that genre too.

Right after I got home from school were the kids programs, Little Orphan Annie put on by Ovaltine, Jack Armstrong the All American Boy put on by Wheaties, and there were others as I grew. But after those came the dial spinning to find music I liked. It didn't take me long to settle on the stations that brought in the music desired by me. It was neat in a way, because the favorites of the day, week, or month would be played first by one and then the other stations. I could hear a loved tune over and over again.

Treasured were the times when Mom was working on Saturday. Not because of her absence, but because Dad would be home with me, just the two of us. We both had the routine housework we took care of, usually we had things under control to the point we could just hang out and do our quiet things while we listened to the Texaco Opera. I wish I could remember the man who announced the opera, he explained pretty much the plot and action. It was a much appreciated learning time for me and a time I learned about many things in life along with gaining a deep appreciation for music. Then after the opera was over there was a half hour of Spirituals, great they were, in harmony perfectly and with rhythm that only can be had by people who have it in their soul and can practise it to perfection. Elder Lightfoot Solomon Mischaux - from the Banks Of The Potomac. "There's a wheel in a wheel, way up in the middle of the air," was one I remember and "Joshua fit the battle of Jericho and the walls came tumbling down," was another and then I heard a song we sung in class rendered as it should be by that choir, "Swing low, sweet chariot." Not too long after that Mom would be home from work and supper and 500 rummy for the evening, usually. Saturdays were verily something special.

I reached my teens, went to work and finally bought a record player which I had desired for a long time. That same boy thing of over and over and over became reality for me. I had a room of my own and could shut the door and have at it. A portion of my wages I spent on records. There was a drugstore near where I worked that occasionally would have records from juke boxes, most of them in pretty good shape too. Cheap, even for me. I would riffle through them and pick out titles that intrigued me as well as things I knew and liked. I bought two albums of records, one was of Viennese waltzes and another of serenades. Those were my first two of a group that came later. Later I had selections from Aida and some popular music I liked.

I couldn't carry a tune in a huge basket and was so fumble fingered that playing an instrument was an impossiblity for me, but ever has there been music in my soul that cannot be made by me. It all began with me on my first hearing of music on a crystal set radio my uncle built. The blessings of being able to love music all began with Radio . . . . . . . . .

Blog