I am sitting waiting for the Child to finish cheer practice. My Ipod just randomly brought to my ears an old song from 1974, Bobby Vinton’s , “My Melody of Love“.
There are many
hours days of music from the 60’s and 70’s on my Ipod, but this song is there because it I was special to my mom.
When I was about 9 my mother was “with” a gentleman by the name of Bob Allen. I remember his name because he was the the first person I knew who was on TV. Bob was the Ed McMahon to some guy behind the desk on a late Saturday night talk show on a UHF channel on Long Island.
I always knew that this song was theirs.. or at least it was her song for him. After New York we moved to Canada and then onto Las Vegas. We didn’t have much, but that that ’45 came with us. I know that the song was special, but my sense was that the little piece of plastic the music was encoded on was special too.
It was until much later that I really understood the words wrote on the 45. It was in my mother’s handwriting and it marked their time together. September ’74 marked when Mom pulled a geographic and we left New York.
I love the little x’s around the title of the song, like little kisses. It took me much longer to grasp that she never gave him the 45. She never gave it to him.
So now, 15 years after her death, I have the little piece of plastic my mother purchased for someone back in 1974. It’s safe with me. Is that silly? I don’t even own a turntable. But I won’t toss it.
We know the songs that are special to us. The songs that remind of the summers of our lives. There are those songs that remind us of friends, good times, bad times and lost loves.
Our parents have those songs too. Those special songs. The ones that tug at their memories. The songs that remind them of their summer of ’74.
So I dare you to call your mom or dad and ask them what song reminds them of someone from long ago. I double dog dare you.