“Mac asked me to clean out the shed. Said anything useable, put it aside, the rest to the burning pit.”
The record cover on the top made her giggle. “Gran liked the original version by an Italian singer. Grandpa liked the English singer. They teased each other big time every time Gloria came on the radio.”
“Funny how songs remind us of people. I've decided I’m going to use these for target practise. Want to come?”
Smiling, he glanced at her. Tal already knew what song reminded him of Hanna.
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I didn’t remember the words, other than Gloria, Gloria. I did remember the music, which created an infiltrating music worm in my brain. I went in search of where, why, and how.
I find it interesting that the original expabded version was released in 1979, so the internet says, by an Italian singer named Umberto Tozzi. His take on the words seems to be opposite to how Laura Branigan portrayed the song’s namesake. I could go into the details, but if you are interested in that part of the story, I am sure you will look it up.
My 99 words for this week’s prompt took me down the music memory lane, and who better to chat about the topic than Hanna and Tal. The expanded version hit 299 words. You get 99.
Music was a big part of my life, and still is. The radio cranked out tunes as we drove to events, us singing along as loud as we could. When 8-tracks were introduced, and then cassettes, that opened other doors. Of course, CD’s, and other gadgets followed, but it wasn’t quite the same.
Our mom was a lover of all kinds of music. If the radio wasn’t playing, there was a stack of 33’s on the record player that she sang to as she went about her daily chores. Sometimes you might catch her dancing with a broom or mop. Because of her, an appreciation for classical music, big bands, and other types of sounds of her era became instilled in us and conjures up all kinds of great times.
Music and dancing were synonymous with each other. Our folks would interrupt a meal with a turn around the floor to a favourite piece on the radio and Dad’s comment about how they’d
danced miles to that one. Sitting down once it was over and carrying on as if nothing had happened.
To this day, when I hear a song, I find my brain starts flipping through the memory bank like some old jukebox searching for a record. The scene plays out as the music plays on. There are times when it is necessary to get up and dance because I, too, think of the miles I have enjoyed dancing to that tune.
Our girls enjoy music and dancing. They even know the words to some of their Nana’s favourites and have a liking for my era in music as well. I think they would even recognize Gloria. As for our grandson, he likes to shake a leg at his tender age; and, I am thankful for how Steve was always gracious about being pulled out of his chair to enjoy a slow dance to a few of the oldies while our dinner got cold.
The tradition carries on and so will the memories…Like the one where we pulled the truck and horse trailer onto a wide spot off the road, got out to sing along with the song on the radio, Crocodile Rock, while we danced. When it was done, we climbed back in and continued down the road. It was broad daylight with vehicles passing by, honking, it didn’t matter...Hmm, I wonder where that came from?
No, I did not find a Laura Branigan record cover among my vinyl stash. Yes, I still have a stack of 33 albums and there has been no thought of using any of my collection for target practise (yet). As a matter of fact, I had forgotten all about them until I wrote this piece.
As long as there is music, memories will be made for us to keep.