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After 40 years of flying over and bouncing along concrete and asphalt, my friend, "Herman," the football stands by my side.
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I was talking with a friend about how much I love Ray Davies and the Kinks music. This reminded me of a frigid November Saturday afternoon in 1965 when I was eleven.
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For some reason, I was staying over my Aunt Barbara's apartment in Elmhurst. I
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I ran a half mile to Barbara's apartment on Macnish Street, not breathing, said hi, and went straight to the Victrola. Saw something disturbing.
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"Barbara, why is the record player unplugged?"
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"Huh?"
OK now I was in hell. New music with no means of playing it. I dropped into a chair. Barbara saw the shape I was in and made a suggestion.
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"Tommy, Joannie's not home, but why don't you go try Betty?"
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Barbara, my Aunt Joan, and their friend Betty Mulhern, all lived in the building. Betty Mulhern was Emma Peel, Barbara Feldon and Serena, Samantha's evil cousin all rolled into one. If you didn't like brunettes, and saw Betty, you'd like brunettes. She danced every new dance, and her wild hair flew. She wore tight shorts on long legs, she wore clam diggers, she painted her pretty toes. Her eyes sparkled, her nose twitched. I couldn't make eye contact with her without my belly feeling funny.
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I went down the hall and knocked on Betty's door. Music was playing.
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"Hey Tommy, what's up?"
"Hmmm, I have a new record, Barbara's player is broken. Can I play it on yours?"
"Sure, come in."
I put it on. Betty was doing the dishes, and she started to sway her hips. All I could do was watch her move back and forth, back and forth.
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I played both sides five times. Would have made it six, if Barbara didn't come in to retrieve me.
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2 comments:
"If you didn't like brunettes, and saw Betty, you'd like brunettes."
nice.
tb
thanks, tb, be well, tp
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