The Music Room

This morning as I was driving my twins to middle school, "Good Vibrations" was playing on the oldies station.  The kids often get quizzed on their musical knowledge when riding in the vehicle with mom.  And I asked, "Do you know who this is?"

"No." (Along with eye rolls and maybe a twinge of irritation in the voice.)

"What?!" And then I decided to give them some help.  "Their initials are B.B."

Nothing.

"You don't know who this is? Come on."  (...as I am singing along.)

Still nothing.

"It's the Beach Boys. Have you heard of the Beach Boys?"

At least I got a "yes" from that last question. But I realized that on some level of parenting, I have failed.

Driving home alone afterwards, I thought about my love of the Beach Boys when I was young. We had a "music room" in our house. Eventually this became my own bedroom, but up until I was twelve it was reserved for music...and business. Dad's desk was in there.  But, you know, music and my dad have always went together. This was a good combination.

The room housed dad's desk and file cabinets...but also the piano and a massive entertainment center that covered the south wall. It had everything you could want--record and 8-track players, a radio, huge speakers, and an amazing collection of tape and vinyl.

How many hours did I spend as a child flipping through those record covers and selecting songs? How many hours did my parents spend doing the same? It seems there was always music floating through the house.

Of course, back then we couldn't just select a playlist and walk away to enjoy hours of music in the background of our day. Listening to music was intentional and time-consuming.

Select the record (I can still visualize many of those old album covers.), wait for the previous song to finish, carefully lift the needle, stop the turntable, remove the old record, put the record carefully back in its album sleeve, carefully remove the new record from its sleeve, place it on the turntable, select the appropriate speed for the record, find the track for the song you wish to hear, carefully lower the needle onto the blank groove prior to the song, and wait with anticipation through the snap and pop of vinyl background noise. While listening...start hunting for the next tune you want to hear in the vast collection of albums.

Hours and hours of pleasure! I was so certain that I would be a singer one day.

So, I had my own little collection of 45 singles and full-length albums...including the Beach Boys as well as Jan and Dean. (I was thrilled in college when I got to see Jan and Dean live at Worlds of Fun!)

The music room eventually became my bedroom while the music collection moved out to the living room area. But my room was still always full of music because my parents had instilled that love of song deep within me.

Albums gave way to cassettes. Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee, and Elvis gave way to Prince and Bruce who gave way to a multitude of hair bands.

And (too soon) I left my sweet little music room which had been such a huge and special part of my childhood.

But often in my mind I find myself back in our home at 109 Adams with the music loud and another vinyl record in my hands waiting for the song to finish.

Let There Be Rock

I knew it was a CD, of course, before I pulled off the paper. After all, it was the right shape and size. Todd looked pretty excited for me to open it, too. Hmmmm. When I unwrapped it, the new AC/DC Ironman II CD (don’t forget the bonus DVD video footage!) was in my hands. Todd reached out and grabbed it, “Let me see! Oh look, there’s a little book and pictures!” He was all over it. Music blared from different CD players throughout the day as Todd worked on his different projects. The next morning as I was headed to work I texted him, “Where’s my CD?” His response, “In my pickup.” And a minute later, “Oops.” Tuesday morning, however, when I turned the ignition, Bon Scott was screaming at me in time with the guitars and drums.

In 1986 “Who Made Who” along with the Stephen King movie, “Maximum Overdrive”, was released. I’m a huge Stephen King fan so when it came to the Showtime Theater in Hugoton, I was there. Now I was raised with three sisters but my parents were introduced by Gary and Janice Porter so our families grew up together. Jim was the closest thing I had to a brother. As kids we played baseball, fished, swam, and often pretended we were the Six-Million-Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman. As teens, I remember when he got that powder blue step-side Ford. I think he drove it straight to my house to show me. Well, he offered to go with me to the show. As I think back, I’m sure he was more interested in the soundtrack than the movie itself. And I became an overnight AC/DC fan.

Julie and I made lots of trips to Liberal in those years. During one trip soon after purchasing the AC/DC album that first caught my attention, I decided to buy an older release. So the second addition to my AC/DC collection was “Let There Be Rock”. As we drove home, I had it cranked up (as usual). After all that loud music (my dad was great at picking vehicles with awesome stereo systems) you would think that I would be hard of hearing. Julie often got tired of the blaring guitars but I didn’t take kindly to people messing with my volume knob. I remember pulling into the drive, turning off the pickup, and Julie and I both commenting something like, “That sucks.” Then laughing. But, that cassette often ended up playing on those crazy high school weekends…and we soon knew the tunes and the words.

My life took some unexpected turns over the next several years. When Tiff caught up with me in college and talked me into getting a babysitter and going out with the girls, I’ll never forget cruising to the Golden Q in her red 1988 TransAm with “Thunderstruck” vibrating our seats. For the first time in a while, I felt young and alive. Little did I know that within the last several months she had went to see AC/DC in concert with my future husband and his buddies. She introduced us to each other on a blind date a few months later.

They had gone to the “Razor’s Edge” concert in Manhattan. I’m not sure who all was with them but I’m pretty sure of Andy (Jack), Jeff (Macster), Wade (Hipper) Todd, Todd’s girlfriend (I won’t name names to avoid embarrassing her), and Tiffany. There may have been others but, of course, I was not around yet. The Scrüe made their way to the front row. Brian, Angus, Malcolm, and Cliff were close enough to drip sweat on them occasionally. Somehow (and honestly I don’t want the details) Todd ended up with his girlfriend’s black, lacy, strapless bra in his hands. After getting Brian’s attention, he threw it up to him. Mr. Johnson wiped the sweat off his face and threw it back to Todd. The poor girl’s underwear immediately became a trophy and hung on his dorm wall until she came to get it after they broke up.

This past year when I saw that AC/DC was coming to Kansas City right after Todd’s birthday, I bought the perfect present--tickets. Sadly, I can’t keep a good secret so he found out pretty quickly. After waiting through a six-month postponement, we walked into the Sprint Center.  Although there was an opening act, it was completely unnecessary.  They took the stage and "they, they, they blew our minds." As we watched and sang and danced, memories flooded both of our minds. When they played their new song, “Big Jack”, I looked over and tears were streaming down Todd’s face. How can it be that music can touch you so deeply that you can completely relive moments from your past? We weren’t just there with Kris and Lisa, all of our friends were there with us…grinning like fools.

Tonight as I tore down wallpaper, Todd came in and said, “Hey, do you want to watch the AC/DC special bonus DVD while you’re doing that?” “Sure,” I said. Throughout the next hour or so, I listened and sang and stopped to watch every now and then. But my favorite part of the evening was periodically glancing at Todd to see him mesmerized by the live footage and smiling at his own memories.


And it came to pass that rock 'n' roll was born.
All across the land every rockin' band was blowin' up a storm.
And the guitar man got famous. The business man got rich.
And in every bar there was a superstar with a seven-year itch.
There was fifteen million fingers learnin' how to play,
And you could hear the fingers pickin' and this is what they had to say…

…Let there be rock

--Bon Scott, 1977

The 4th of July!

The 4th of July is my favorite holiday.

Every town has their special “day” or event. In Salina it’s the River Festival. In Todd’s hometown it’s Satanta Day. In Tribune it’s the Greeley County Fair. But in Hugoton it is the 4th of July.

The morning of Independence Day starts early in Hugoton with events at the park and a parade. As a child, I remember eagerly anticipating this morning each summer. Our park was beautiful—full of large trees which provided lots of shade, playground equipment, and the pool. There was always a dunking booth, cake walk, three-legged race, face painting, sack race, turtle race, egg toss, sawing contest, ring toss, and bingo. But some years brought interesting new ideas. I remember one year when two people took turns sitting on a horizontal pole over a Port-a-Pit and pelted each other with padded sticks until one fell off.

The morning always ended with a swimsuit beauty contest. Don’t get too excited—the participants were all under the age of 6! Dressed in their cutest swimsuit, little boys and girls would parade around the pool getting introduced over a loud speaker as spectators crowded around the chain link fence to get a good view and take pictures. Although I remember participating in this event, I certainly didn’t win.

When Domino’s opened (not the Pizza chain but a tasty little burger joint owned by great guy that had this for a nickname), my family began the annual tradition of walking there from the park and eating lunch together. Nowadays, this requires a pretty big table—not to mention a race with the Stegman’s, who at some point started the same tradition!

Somewhere along the way, the boys quit coming to the park with us and began their own little tradition of golfing with Dad all morning while Mom, my sisters, and I chase the kids around the park and have fun catching up with old friends who have returned for the annual festivities.

By this date each year, wheat harvest was complete and my folks and their friends were ready to unwind. We often got together with friends for some type of party. The parents sat around in lawn chairs while we blew things up all afternoon with big metal coffee cans full of firecrackers. At some point, one of my brothers-in-law brought a potato gun. After that, the boys worked together to design and build another one to perfection. From that year on, as my sisters and I played with the kids, the boys shot the potato gun. It always cracked us up that they laughed long and hard after EVERY shot! This led up to Tana’s famous line to Aunt Casy (probably at about 4 years old), “I love fireworks day. I love potato day.” Mom learned quickly to stock up on potatoes and cheap hairspray.

My hometown always put on a great fireworks display at the Babe Ruth baseball diamond. I remember being impatient for the baseball game to end. Between the game and nightfall there was typically a coin hunt in a pile of hay. With my asthma, I never got to participate in this exciting event. Everyone would park out there and sit in the stands, lawn chairs, the pickup beds to “ooh” and “ahh” at the sight. It always ended with an American Flag that would light up for a few seconds before fizzling out to signal the end. In the last several years this has been held at the Dirtona Raceway but most often at the high school football field where spectators sit in the bleachers and are often treated to some type of entertainment prior to the display.

Back at home, the fun really began. This is when Dad drug out the night fireworks that he had purchased. Grown men are just like excited children when it comes to fireworks! Typically we had a driveway full of friends and a huge stockpile of things to light up. In town we simply lit these in the street. Now that my folks live in the country, we use the cement slab by the shed—unless it’s been a particularly dry summer. My husband and brothers-in-law share that same ornery gleam that my Dad always has in his eye when it’s time to light ‘em up. The grandkids all take turns helping with this task with shrieks of fear and excitement.

Over the years, we’ve deviated from this typical schedule on occasion. Many of these years, work kept someone away. One year Heath was recovering from surgery in Wichita and we watched the fireworks over there. When the twins were babies, I remember being exhausted and staying at Dad and Mom’s to watch from the window while everyone went into town. Of course, I’ll never forget the Independence Day weekend of 1991 when we lost Thad, Carrie, and Delbert. Remembering Thad’s ornery grin will always be part of this day for me.

So many have given so much to give us the freedoms that we enjoy in this wonderful country—the United States of America. I know that I was blessed to be born in this country and raised in Hugoton, Kansas. No wonder this is my favorite holiday. Happy 4th of July!

Summers

My summer started today at 1:00. It could not have been a more beautiful day, either.

I've always loved the summers. Growing up in Hugoton, my sisters and I walked, rode our bikes, and skateboarded all over town. There were a few summers, when Lisa was still little enough that she rode on the back of Mom's bike, that I remember taking family bicycle rides. Dad would head up the group while Mom brought up the rear. We had a specific path through town that we took. I loved those rides. Dad always started a game of tag with us older girls. It made Mom so nervous to watch us swerve at each other.

As I got a little older, I remember waiting patiently for 2 o'clock to roll around so I could go to the pool. We were there almost everyday all day. We had this pea green Ram Charger (we could remove the top) that was Mom's summer ride. It had a roll bar so it was also the sand dune cruizer. I'm not sure why my Dad and his friends thought it fun to see who could climb the steepest dune!

In junior high I got my learner's permit. I can very clearly remember that first summer of driving--Ranae and Tammie were in town and Footloose was the HOT soundtrack of the summer. Any time I hear one of those songs, I think of grinning at my cousins while getting used to being behind the wheel!

High school summers included babysittng the Crawford boys and swimming. Little Brett and I had lots of fun! Of course, going to the pool in high school had absolutely NOTHING to do with swimming. My best friend, Julie, also babysat. We always coordinated our schedules to do things together with the kids.

Summers in college were busy with classes. I was in a hurry to get out and get a job so I always enrolled full-time and worked. However, Heath and I found time to go to the Hays neighborhood pools quite often--followed by a Sonic drink or a TCBY yogurt. I also always took 2 weeks off to go home and see my folks and Lisa for a while.

After my first year of teaching, I remember the exhileration I felt when the realization hit me that I had 3 months with my son! Todd and I were married the previous March and right at the beginning of the summer we found out that we were going to have a baby. That was a special summer. A summer that was just focused on Heath (and our new puppy, Tandy). In Healy there was a small community pool that we paid to use. Plus we spent many evenings watching Heath pick dandelions in right field.

Summers in Tribune were very busy. The kids were growing and our family was growing. I actually managed the pool the year I was pregnant with the twins! Tana was 3 and could swim like a fish...a dark little blondie! We always had to take Barbie along with us to the pool. Later in Tribune, we bought a bigger house right across the street from the pool. It was heavenly! We had a big, beautiful and shady back yard where we spent most of our time. Summers in Tribune were filled with bike rides and long walks in the evenings.

At first the walks included a double-stroller, but as the years went on we watched our kids move to bikes with, and later without, training wheels. They love telling the story of Mom hitting a pothole and going over her handlebars before landing on the pavement with road rash from my toes to my forehead. They think it is so funny that I lost my little front granny basket during that fall! I proved my toughness by finishing that bike ride even though I was a bloody mess.

In Salina we live by a dike that has a walking trail on it. That 2-mile long trail see us come up and down almost every evening--usually with the little ones on their bikes. The second summer we were here, Heath and I wore ourselves out with daily workouts as he was getting ready to go into the Navy. Our pool adventures now typically involve a drive to a nearby town to play at an aquatic center.

I'm so excited for a new summer with my children and the warm sun. I look forward to the upcoming adventures we will take and the memories we will make.

Legend: Short Stories--Cones and Cowbells

Some of the "Legends" from my childhood can be told in just a couple of sentences. So, I've grouped several of these together. Again, these are stories that are legendary from my childhood and repeated often at family gatherings.

We often used to go to Amarillo to enjoy a family weekend. Dad and Mom always got a nice hotel with an indoor pool and other family amenities. My mother was raised to dress well and on this weekend was wearing a new suede jacket. She has always been a beautiful and classy woman. While walking across the pool area to get to the on-site restaurant, Mom noticed a body floating face-down in the hot tub. Without even thinking, she jumped in to pull the limp body out. However, the kid was nearly scared to death when this crazy woman interrupted his relaxing swim by yanking him out of the water.

Actually, I'm not sure who was more scared...but I do know who was most entertained. The pool area was FULL of people, not to mention the restaurant that opened into this area so that diner's could watch their children frolick in the water. It all happened so fast that I just remember hearing a SPLASH and looking over to see my mother fully-clothed in the hot tub. She was so angry that we were laughing...

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Before my parents bought a van, they had a pickup with a topper. Although we can't imagine having our children ride back there in this day and age, that's how we went on vacation back then. Seatbelts were not required. We would just fill up the bed of the pickup with blankets, pillows, books, and stuffed animals then put on the topper and we were ready to hit the road. But the topper was also handy for trips around town when you had more people than you had seats.

On this occasion, my Uncle Dean was in town from Washington state. For some reason (I don't know if they were forced into it by my Mom and Aunt or if they had the idea on their own) they decided to take the kids to the Jet Drive-In for ice cream cones. So, they hopped in the front of the pickup and us kids (all SEVEN of us) piled into the bed of the truck. After picking up the cones, we started back toward the house.

An interesting fact about Hugoton is that it was built with a drainage system that includes canals. We loved the canals as kids because they made a great place to skateboard and ride our bikes. Not to mention that when it rained, we had a blast playing in the fast-moving water. Dad's shed was right beside the entrance to the canal (where water would drain from the roads into this system) and it was just a short couple of blocks from the house. On this particular day, that entrance to the canal called my father's name. In a split second, he realized how fun it would be to drive through the canal, up and down the slopes, with his brother and all of us kids in tow. Wow...just like a roller coaster.....with ice cream cones! You can just imagine this mess.

I can't resist throwing in a quote from The Wedding Singer here: "They were cones!" LOL!

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We had a little Honda XR75. Actually, Dad still has this little motorcycle and we still enjoy riding it! But we all had little bumps in the road to error-free riding...including the time (probably the same weekend with the ice cream cones above) that Mom and Aunt Janice were sitting on lawn chairs in the yard watching the older kids ride. As they chatted, Casy headed toward them...and kept coming...no slowing down...and coming...still not slowing... And finally, "She's not stopping!" and the two women bailed out of their chairs right before being plowed over because Casy forgot where the brake was!
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We used to go to Clark County Lake often with the Suttons. Bill loved to fish. That is the thing I remember most about him along with his trademark sideburns and mustache. On this particular trip, I decided to climb the hill by the campsite. I think I was in the first grade and I remember how hard that hike was and how high it seemed. I got to the top and was thrilled at the view but when I looked down, I froze. This was the first time I realized that I was scared of heights. After trying to coax me down for quite a while, Dad or Bill came up and carried me down. That hill was known in our little circle from then on as "Gina's Mountain" as name by Bill Sutton.

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When Lisa was little, mom and dad couldn't keep track of her. She was a climber (on the roof, top of the swingset, in trees) and an adventurer. When we would go somewhere, we would often lose Lisa. So...they bought a cowbell and put it around her neck on a purple leather strap. I wonder what in the world strangers thought when they saw this stray child running around with a cowbell clanging around her neck! I didn't think it was weird at all. All you had to do was listen for the DONG DONG DONG and you could find her. My folks had some innovative parenting techniques!