One of my favorite toys is my iPod. I purchased this wonder of wonders more than five or six years ago. After downloading thousands of songs on this little music maker I’ve carted it along with me from vacation to vacation. No matter where I am I can sing a happy tune. No matter how great the place you are is sometimes you just need a little taste of home.
The first thing I do each day, after drawing up the kitchen shades, is plug-in the iPod. With a swirl of the outer ring I can float through the 50s, 60s, 70s right up to current day Adele who heralded in two thousand and twelve. I think she is great with her pounding beat. The music I choose reflects the mood of the day.
When cooking a big Sunday dinner Lou Monte, Jerry Vale and Louie Primo might be my companions. Italian oldies ring through the house. The sauce is stirred with thoughts of Mom and Grandma in my head. Always, the nostalgia brings a smile to my face. Grandma’s voice is still so clear. ‘You use this much salt,’ she would say while circling the center of her palm with her index finger. Not quite an exact measurement, but good enough.
This morning I swirled to my billboard playlist. This includes songs of the late 50s and early 60s. Really old Rock N Roll. While I danced around the kitchen I was put into a Potato and Egg mood. The kind of hero that was sold on the corner of 115th Street and Pleasant Avenue, when I was a kid growing up in Manhattan. Rock blared from the inside of a small sandwich shop while the teenage boys, who attended Benjamin Franklin High School, crowded in for lunch. Of course I made Potatoes and Eggs for lunch today Yummm! Unlike the teenagers of those times, I am sure the hero went straight to my hips, but today it was worth it.
Another single that I danced to this morning was At the Hop by Danny and the Juniors. Only people of a certain generation will remember that one. My girlfriend, Susan, was my usual dance partner. We would Lindy the day away in Mike’s Candy Store. But, At the Hop, was a song that I only danced with another friend, Annunziata. She was a recent arrival from Italy who was about my age. Annunziata and I did a step to the first strains of the song. It was a kind of slide across the floor, clicking heel toe with one foot and dragging the other in time to the music. This was perhaps fifty years ago.
Today, much to Jim’s amazement, I did this very step across the kitchen floor, with spatula in hand when At the Hop rang from the iPod. Remember I was cooking potatoes and eggs at the time. Annunziata, that one was for you.