My great friend, Tobbe Janson, asked that I offer seven days of music-related memories. Thank you, Tobbe. Let the nostalgia begin.
Even earlier than my actual memory allows, I used to crawl out of my crib in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I was rather dangerous. My mom and two older brothers remember with much horror the one night that I had crawled onto the stovetop, lighting all the burners to full. When they heard me screaming, they ran down to find me standing in the middle of the stovetop. Amazingly, I stood perfectly in the middle, unharmed.
Usually, though, my 3 in the morning explorations were just plain mischievous. As far as I know, there was never a time in our house that we didn’t have music. Classical, jazz, musicals, rock. All was acceptable. Born in late 1960s, I became rather obsessed with two records. Frequently, I crawled out of the crib, descended downstairs, and put one of my two favorite singles on the stereo system. I’d not only figured out how to play records before I could walk, I knew how to blare the records at full volume, waking up my family. Most likely, I awoke several neighbors in my hometown of Great Bend, Kansas, as well. Our stereo went to 11.
The two songs: the Banana Splits Theme and Snoopy and the Red Barron.