Many many moons ago, when I was a little girl, my parents had garage parties. My father would be the “dj.” He loved it. He loved music and I’m sure that is where my love of music came from. Somewhere along the line my father started playing music for people at parties. Then people started asking him to play at wedding receptions, at country clubs for events, etc. He started his own business – Dance Designs Mobile Discotheque. Don’t laugh. It was the early eighties. He was having a blast! And so was I.
Listening to his records when he played them and planned playlists for each event brought me joy. I loved sitting in our living room listening to the music coming from the garage as the grown-ups danced and partied on through the late hours of the night. I would usually end up falling asleep on the couch. Probably because I had sampled a couple of sips of wine out of the glasses sitting around. Again – late seventies, early eighties. It just happened!
While my dad would teach me how to take care of my 45s and albums, use stereo equipment properly, he also had one rule – Don’t play the records he had put away for the parties. I wasn’t allowed to handle those ones.
I don’t remember exactly, but I’m thinking it was a Friday afternoon after school. I was seven years old. I was listening to my records in my room. Good grief, even at seven years old I was rocking out in my room to loud music! LOL
The song ended and I jump off my bed where I am dancing around. There is a song I really want to hear again. But it’s in THAT box of records. The one’s I’m not supposed to play. An idea is born. I am going to get that record out of the box. But to make sure my dad doesn’t know I used it, I’ll put a piece of paper in the spot where it goes so the records don’t get out of order. I’ll listen to it, put it back in it’s sleeve and back in the box and nobody will ever know. Right?
The Brothers Johnson had a huge hit in 1977 with a remake of Shuggie Otis’ Strawberry Letter 23, which was produced by the amazing Quincy Jones. Couldn’t figure out why that was the title when the lyric clearly says 22. But that is a story for another time. This song will always have a place in my heart.
So I’m listening to this super cool song, dancing around on my bed again. Loving it. It ends. Time for a new song. I take the record off my record player and lay it down next to the sleeve on my bed. Put on a new song and we’re back into dancing on the bed. A few seconds into the next song, I take a step and hear the unmistakable sound of an off-limits 45 cracking under my foot. I am frozen. Fear of my father grips my soul and all I can think of is “how am I going to hide this?”
Of course the child that I am puts it back in the sleeve, goes back to my parents’ room and into the closet where his records are, find the paper marking the spot where it goes. I slip it back into place and my little child brain decides that I just won’t say anything. If he asks about it when he notices it, and he will notice, I will just play dumb. Yeah. That will work! Everything gets put away, I go back to my room and act like it never happened.
The next morning I wake up and head toward the living room to watch cartoons, which is why I think the record incident was a Friday after school. But I hesitate. My dad is sitting at the table in the dining room reading the morning paper. I try to continue on as normal, but suddenly the guilt of my crime is eating away at me. I’m seven and on the verge of my first panic attack!
I can’t concentrate on the cartoons. I go back to the dining room to where my dad is. Immediately I start crying and of course he wants to know what’s wrong, so I spill my guts. I tell him every little sordid detail just as I have told it here, or pretty close I suppose.
What happened next, I’m not entirely sure. It’s a little fuzzy, but I’d venture to say he started laughing. My dad was very chill and did not anger easily. He probably saw how distressed I was and didn’t want to make it worse. There was some disappointment, as any parent would have, but there was also a part of him that was proud of me because I admitted my wrong doing.
Thinking back on that day makes me laugh. Smile. There are so many great memories that I have of my incredible father. Music will always make me think of him. Even now, I wonder if he would like the music I have discovered in the past year.
Yes. I believe he would. How great it would be to share it with him!
For now, enjoy the first record I ever broke. It’s a good one!
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Radio My Way 