Since my husband's heart surgery (triple bypass, July 2010) I have watched with happiness and moderate amusement as he's incorporated less stress and more enjoyment into his life. I shouldn't have been surprised that his love of music played into it. Now mind you, about all he can play is anything electronic, or mechanical in the case of his beloved Edison. He did a little trumpet in high school, but that's really it as far as an actual instrument.
One of the results of this is an increasing collection of media. At first it was lp's, also known as 78's. That was ok. We've had a traditional turntable for years. Then one day I noticed a huge box on the front porch. I started to take it in only to realize I needed a hand truck - the sucker was heavy! Turns out it was a pristine condition TEAC reel to reel tape deck that once served a radio station. He'd practically stole the thing on Ebay.
"What are you going to play on that?" I asked. He just grinned. And proceeded to hook it up and whip out a couple of tapes. The sound was phenomenal, Mancini probably didn't sound that good playing live.
"Ok, that's fine. I can live with that - just please throw out those eight track tapes that came with the reels." He only nodded that he'd heard me.
Now mind you, in redneck Alabama where I grew up eight tracks were a scourge. My only memories of them were of raunchy tears in your beer country music and piles of dirty ones laying in the floorboards of pickup trucks along with empty chewing tobacco pouches. This was NOT something I wanted in my house.
More boxes have come and gone since then. Knowing he won't buy anything unless old Abe Lincoln gets squeezed real hard I don't keep track of what he's doing. Evey day I hear what I've come to consider "vintage music" - sounds from the past that shaped America, sounds that our children would only recognize from commercials with no understanding that what they are hearing shaped two, and in some cases three previous generations. I'm hearing history - big band, 50's, 60's and 70's elevator music, a lot of classic gospel, a bit of jazz - the list goes on.
This morning I heard something that hit a nerve - Summertime from Show Boat. My dad used to sing it, and he did it great justice. I've always loved that song, partly for the good memories it invokes, partly for the sheer haunting beauty of it. I found my sweetheart and told him how much it meant to me only to be laughed out of the room.
"It's from a tape of great American music . . . . . and it's an eight track"
