The Daily Earwig: a Medley of "Da Doo Ron Ron Ron" and "Do You Believe in Magic?"

[CorpGovActivist]

OK. So, this morning, *technically*, the Muses threw a hardball right across the plate, in the sweet spot of the strike zone for a tall guy like me, but http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_mesg&forum=105&topic_id=7442686&mesg_id=7442686">it was still a hardcore brushback pitch, if ya know what I mean.

The Muses can be viciously funny first thing in the morning. Luckily, I'm wearing a cup.

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The year in which my memories become continuous and unbroken is 1977. Without a doubt, 1977 was a very good year.

* Top of the list, in a photo-finish, win-by-a-nose squeaker: http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_mesg&forum=132&topic_id=4312540&mesg_id=4312540">my "little" brother was born. We "argue" about whether or not he was technically around for the:

* Debut of Star Wars, the http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_mesg&forum=132&topic_id=4383144&mesg_id=4383144">first movie I was permitted to see on the big screen, in violation of our church's rules. My best friend (three years older) and I begged my parents for a week solid, and finally wore them down. Response #11 in that thread, in particular, helps explain how that movie has served as an enduring bond for my "little" brother and me, bridging the nearly 6 years of difference in our ages.

* I started kindergarten, and for the first time, was around other little boys my age, outside the context of church.

* Shaun Cassidy had a hit record; it was the first LP I ever bought with my own money. And therein lies today's earwig.

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When the half-day kindergarten bus dropped me off at the top of the hill - our hill - I ran home, Star Wars lunchbox flailing every which way, to put the needle on the record. Again.

The timeline is important here. At 5, the concept of time is, oh, so different than at 36.

But I've made my inner 5-year old a bowl of tomato soup and some butter breads (his favorite after-school snack), and he's yammering at me with his mouth full, to make sure I don't mess it up, "coz" it's important to get it right. And time, for today, is on the 5-year-old's clock, not mine.

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Star Wars http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_Episode_IV:_A_New_Hope">debuted in the US on May 25, 1977.

Mom was showing.

Rebecca was finally beginning to be an interesting playmate, and we stopped taping pink bows to her head, as cornsilk sprouts finally broke through that thick head of hers.

Dad was back on his feet after the mining accident.

Gary B. - the closest I ever came to having a big brother - waxed damn-near poetic about Star Wars, and how I just *had* to see it, and how it didn't matter if it was against my church's rules (his family was "home churched," sort of), and how we could tag team my parents into submission if we really worked at it. This attack plan was hatched in Gary's bedroom, well out of my parents' earshot, as the two of us multi-tasked.

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Gary always let me be blue. It was one of the few games he didn't exercise his de facto big brother privilege in. Or maybe blue wasn't his favorite color, like it is mine. I dunno. Either way, at pretty much every other game we played, he exercised his privilege. But having only an older sister, he was a good big brother. All in all.

So, we wheedled. We cajoled. We pried. We pouted. We waxed rhetorical. We tag teamed. We gave puppy dog eyes that would've turned Cruella into a nudist vegan.

Oh, yes, my friends. Our shock and awe campaign had the statue of parental inner resolve toppled in no time flat.

Our little hillbilly heroics would've had ya'll up North spending Dixie cups. But like the rest of Gen X, we were Born Late.

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Gary was not one given to effusive exaggeration. Judging by the size of, and the chatter in, the line at the little movie theater in Mullens, he had understated his case, if anything.

Friends, I still remember the 20th Century Fox fanfare as if it were yesterday. I get very pissed off nowadays whenever undeserving movies play it, much to my partner's amusement. And play two bars of the LucasFilm Ltd. magic music, and I'm a kinetic little bundle. That's like the Fisher Price googly-eyed phone to my inner 5 year old, and he *will* come out to play - with a full night's sleep under his belt, and with every toy he can carry in both hands, and wedged under both arms - ready for action.

O8) :bounce: :evilgrin:

roll, bounce, Roll, baby, roll, bounce, Roll - hardwired well before age 5

Gary had never heard the word "spoiler," and somehow, he managed to hype it without giving a single thing away.

What a look must have been painted on my face when the screen imploded from the Yavin awards ceremony into the closing credits!

Gobsmacked.

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In September, 1977, I started kindergarten. Mom says she cried after she left the classroom. I had no clue. I was all Stewie that day: begone, vile woman! There are minions to bend to my will.

Sally, she of the dark eyes and the dark hair, wailed and weeped as her mother made to go. I consoled her, and soon we were playing in the kindergarten kitchen, her mom completely forgotten.

Jeff C., he of the red hair and the many freckles, now he was intriguing. I stole glances at him over the Play-Doh stove, while Sally kept yammering on about something or other, while I tried to interject appropriate responses in all the right places.

Jeff would become both a friend and a rival. A worthy playmate and a worthy foe. And always, always, that unspoken tension. Mrs. Lilly, our kindergarten teacher, let two students read to the class that year: Jeff and me.

Jeff was truly the Bertram to my Stewie.



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In October, 1977, Kevin was born.

Rebecca was moved out of the smallest room of our single-wide trailer, into the bottom bunk in my room, at the far end of the trailer. I got guard rails and an upgrade to the top bunk.

The view suited me just fine, and those guard rail thingies made for excellent gallows for my growing collection of the bad guys from Star Wars.

http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_mesg&forum=132&topic_id=4383144&mesg_id=4395183">R2D2 kept guard over Princess Leia in the bottom bunk, and me in the top bunk. I never had trouble falling asleep.

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In the corner of the room, between the trailer's built-in dressing mirror and the end of the double-wide chest of drawers that my Maw Maw gave us, was the old stereo system we got at Montgomery Ward.

It played records of every format, with the right attachment. It could stack several records, and moved the needle out of the way automatically when a new record dropped. At Christmas, Mom would load it up with classics, and we fell asleep to Mathis and Bing, and never heard the last song play. It played 8 tracks, with blue lights and a button you could push to skip a track. It looked like - and doubled as - a Star Wars data interface.



I will still race you to push the elevator button, if I know you well enough. And when it comes to elevator button races, I throw sharp elbows. Fair warning.

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It was on that record player, right after Kevin was born, that I played the A and B side of Born Late. Over. And over.

While I stared at Shaun Cassidy. With a funny feeling. That inner 5-year old only vaguely understood, but understood well enough to keep damn well quiet about it.

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Literally, I remember reading Jack and Jill to Mrs. Lilly's kindergarten class. She had these funny read-along records, with sound effects in just the right places.

Jack and Jill went up the hill.

And on the album cover, they were holding hands.

Somehow, I knew that Jeff and Dave couldn't do that.

Maybe it was the lyrics on Born Late. The http://www.8-track-shack.com/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=20966
">song title listing on this 8 Track version alone provided ample clues.

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The Fates are full of irony. About the time I was 10, Ronnie B. moved in next door. We were the same age. The three years' age difference with Gary had begun to matter a lot more than it did when he was 8 and I was 5.

Ronnie brought over Thriller for me to listen to, and we swapped musical enthusiasms. He "got" my affinity for Shaun Cassidy. He, too, had done everything possible to watch the short-lived http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hardy_Boys/Nancy_Drew_Mysteries">Hardy Boys series (more difficult for me than for Ronnie - whose family consisted of "heatherns," - as it conflicted with Sunday evening service; http://journals.democraticunderground.com/CorpGovActivist/459">Battlestar and Starbuck were difficult enough to see, let alone Hardy Boys, absent a very convincing sickout from the Sonofa's Sermon). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battlestar_Galactica_%281978_TV_series%29">Battlestar came on right after the Hardy Boys, Sundays, 1978 and 1979.

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Ronnie and I became the sort of best friends that 11 year old boys become. In that magic high noon of youth, we drew cap gun pistols, and nobody got hurt. All's fair in love and reloadin'.



My little brother was an unending nag. Ronnie - who only had an older sister - was more generous than I was about including Kevin. I am truly sorry for that now.

Kevin is a fine guy to know. He has been more generous than he ought, perhaps, about letting me off the hook for telling him to scram. Much more often than I should have.

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The summer of 83, Ronnie's parents invited me along to http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=renovia+campground">go camping with them at Lake Renovia Campground. For two whole weeks.

Our first day there, we made a pact. We would say every curse word we knew, as loudly as we liked. Out of earshot of his parents, of course. Thankfully, they gave us free rein to explore.

We wore out the F Bomb, and grew tired of it.

We jumped off the 30-foot tower into the lake. I learned to hold my legs together - tight - on the way down. The hard way.

We made side trips to Charlottesville, and I caught sight of Monticello and UVA for the first time.

We shared the bunk in the lip of the pull-behind camper.

When his stepdad - who raced a replica of the General Lee at the local speedway - decided he was bored, we pulled up stakes and headed up to his stepdad's aunt's house in PA, in Amish Country. The little handmade, hand-painted wooden casket from the http://www.strasburgrailroad.com/">Strasburg Railroad Museum is one of my favorite childhood souvenirs, and contains many of my favorite "trinkets," awards, and insignia.

My parents were not pleased by this unscheduled sidetrip, but took it in stride.

In the lip of that camper, and under the quilts in the truck bed, under the stars to and from our various hub-and-spoke destinations, I learned a lot about wanderlust. And the regular kind.

With Ronnie. We made up our own lyrics though. And the stars shined anyway, and nary a one imploded.

And I da dood ron ron ron
Da dood ron ron.

P.S. http://video.yahoo.com/video/play?vid=852396">Seth MacFarlane, get out of my head!!! Or else, cut me in for the rightful share of royalties. Victory is mine!

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I met her on a Monday
And my heart stood still
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron
Somebody told me
That her name was Jill
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron

Ya, my heart stood still
Ya, her name was Jill
And when I walked her home
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron

I knew what she was thinkin'
When she caught my eye
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron
She looked sorta quiet
But, my oh my
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron

Ya, she caught my eye
Ya, but, my oh my
And when I walked her home
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron

Well, I picked her up at seven
And she looked so fine
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron
Someday soon
I'm gonna make her mine
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron

Ya, he looked so fine
Ya, I'll make her mine
And when I walked her home

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Do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart
How the music can free her whenever it starts
And it's magi-ic, if the music is groovy
It makes you feel lovely like an old-time movie
I'll tell you about the magic, and it'll free your soul
But it's like tryin' to tell a stranger 'bout rock and ro-o-oll

If you believe in magic don't bother to choose
If it's jug band music or rhythm and blues
Just go and listen it'll start with a smile
It won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try
Your feet start a-tappin' and you can't seem to find
How you got there, so just blow your mind

If you believe in magic, come along with me
We'll dance until mornin', 'til there's just you and me
And maybe, if the music is right
I'll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we'll go dancin', baby, then you'll see
How the magic's in the music and the music's in me

Yeah - do you believe in magic
Yeah - believe in the magic of a young girl's soul
Believe in the magic of rock and roll
Believe in the magic that can set you free-ee
Woh-oh, talkin' 'bout magic
Do you believe in magic
Do you believe in me-ee
Do you believe in ma-a-a-agic
Believe in me
Do you believe in ma-a-agic
Do you believe in me-ee
Do you believe in ma-a-agic
Da doo ron ron ron
Da doo ron ron....

[AwakeAtLast]

1. I had that record, too!

And considering that my husband is from PA, we have been to the Strasburg railroad, too. We had a good time there - WMU Jr. loves trains!


Everything you write about has a familiarness to it - right down to the single-wide and the bunk bed. Add a cousin who played Rod Stewart and KISS for you when your Mom wasn't listening and that would be my life!


:hi:

[CorpGovActivist]

2. Strasburg fed my love for trains. WMU Jr. is in fine company.

How old is he? I could rattle off some great trips, guaranteed to give high return on parental investment, for very little - or no - coin.

"Everything you write about has a familiarness to it - right down to the single-wide and the bunk bed."

Kevin forced the upgrade. Around the time he was 1, Dad sprung for the double-wide. It sat in two pre-fabbed halves on our property for about a month, until the footer was dug, the cinder block foundation was laid, and then the big day. I enjoyed watching the construction unfold.

Huge Tonka Truck phase, ya know? And the men on the work crew gave me their CB handles, and we talked in the mornings and evenings when they were on their way to and from the worksite.

I was the Road Runner! Years later, when I met Chuck Jones (we were inducted into the American Academy of Achievement the same year), I told him that and made him chuckle.



The crane came, and lifted our new house - which we never got tired of visiting while it sat in two halves, with big plastic sheets blurring the outside - into place.

"Add a cousin who played Rod Stewart and KISS for you when your Mom wasn't listening and that would be my life!"

Ronnie - and eventually, again, as the age difference mattered less again - Gary, bootlegged the forbidden tunes in for me.

But I had a few cousins who were bad influences, too!

:hi:

Nice to meetcha! Where'd you grow up?

As the oldest, I was supposed to get my own bedroom. Kevin was supposed to room with Rebecca, until he got too old.

My sister checkmated me the very first night.

Kevin was screaming in his crib, afraid of the new environment.

"MOM!!! Come get *this baby*," my sister barked. I can hear the intonation perfectly.

Mom moved Kevin in with me, and asked me to be a good big brother and make him feel safe.

My shadow puppets will never be as good as hers were, but I made do. It took a few nights for it to dawn on me that Rebecca had pulled a power play that wasn't going to be reversed.

:grr:

Only, that ended up being one helluva silver lining.

I wouldn't trade the night-time talks with Kevin for anything in the world. Not a damn thing.

[AwakeAtLast]

7. I should have put "Jr. ette"

She is 6 and is a great combination of tomboy/fairy princess. She is an only child, so it's good that she has both sides. She has loved anything with wheels, but especially trains, since she was very little.

We lived in our mobile home in Southern Illinois, which is where I was born. In 1979 Grandpa retired from farming, so Dad moved us to the eastern side of So. IL in their old (I mean oooolllldd, maybe 150 years?) farmhouse. That's when we got our own bedrooms, so it didn't matter that the floors were uneven and the walls leaned a bit. We had to close off the upstairs in the winter and sleep downstairs when it got too cold. My sister and I were born in the same year, so my parents stopped there. ;) My sister lives in Chicago right now, but wants to move to Austin, TX. I think that's a good choice. I moved to Central Indiana 15 years ago and I teach in an elementary school. We are a long way from Grandpa's farm!


:hi:

[CorpGovActivist]

12. : p

Ah, the language of gender.

No harm, no foul. Either side.

"She is 6 and is a great combination of tomboy/fairy princess. She is an only child, so it's good that she has both sides. She has loved anything with wheels, but especially trains, since she was very little."

I could still suggest sites. And I'm an equal opportunity Pied Piper at family reunions. With any luck, the boys and girls learn to respect one another during our games.

"We lived in our mobile home in Southern Illinois, which is where I was born. In 1979 Grandpa retired from farming, so Dad moved us to the eastern side of So. IL in their old (I mean oooolllldd, maybe 150 years?) farmhouse. That's when we got our own bedrooms, so it didn't matter that the floors were uneven and the walls leaned a bit."

As long as the love joists are solid and secure, who cares, right?

"We had to close off the upstairs in the winter and sleep downstairs when it got too cold. My sister and I were born in the same year, so my parents stopped there. My sister lives in Chicago right now, but wants to move to Austin, TX. I think that's a good choice. I moved to Central Indiana 15 years ago and I teach in an elementary school. We are a long way from Grandpa's farm!"

But always just a heartbeat and an eyethink away, right?

:hug:

[AwakeAtLast]

15. Absolutely!

Thanks!

:hug:

[CorpGovActivist]

16. Smithsonian. Museum of American History.

For starters. Though they're remodeling, and expanding, at the moment.

The trains exhibit is supposed to get even bigger.

Tour guide: free.

- Dave

[CaliforniaPeggy]

3. My dear CorpGovActivist...

What a poignant and wonderful retelling of a good chunk of your childhood...

Beautifully done...

Should be a major part of your autobiography!

Thank you...for sharing this very personal journey, sweetie...

:hug:

[CorpGovActivist]

5. Yammer or be damned.

That could well have been the sign over my grandparents' very large old fashioned porch, way back http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carswell,_West_Virginia">at the end of that hidden holler of McDowell County. They took their mail at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kimball%2C_West_Virginia">Kimball, which has a very special, and very tolerant history.

Sink or swim. Or be half-drowned. That could've been the sign over that big porch, which held every cousin, from youngest to oldest. Our own shining citadel - perched on the hill.

- Dave

[radfringe]

4. ok Dave it's all your fault... I've uploaded a few old family photos

and now you have to look at them...

my dad spent about a month going through and organizing very old photos, I managed to scan in a few the last time I was visiting. Hoping to scan in some more next time I go to visit.

The album spans over 100years of the families

here's a few


Italian side of family - my mother

my Great Grandfather


My great Grandmother with 2 of her sons

the above are from my grandmother's side of family


My Grandfather - was in Italian army WW-1


My mother


German side of family - my dad

my great grandfather - he's the one with his arm on the table. this was taken during WW-1, Russian front. he was artillary, wounded in the leg, also got dosed with mustard gas


my grandfather on the left, the other is his older brother who died soon after in flu epidemic


my grandmother


my dad with his step-grandfather

[CorpGovActivist]

9. Are you kidding?

I love - LOVE - looking at old photos like this!!!

How do you attach from local source?

Witchy woman with fine family photos!

[radfringe]

10. photobucket.com

free account, load them up and the grab the code

a few years ago, my dad and I split up a couple boxes of slide magazines, covering a period of about 1958-1990.. family photos mostly, spent about six months scanning and cleaning them up. burned them to CD's

We have a friend in CA that has his own business putting together family photos/stories in a sort of ken burns style documentry. voice overs, music etc. I keep meaning to send the disks to him and ask him to put something together for the family

[CorpGovActivist]

13. Don't wait. Do it. Tempus fugit.

[DaDooRonRon]

6. Gee, wonder why that tune makes me smile

:)

[CorpGovActivist]

8. Spooky!

Did you have a crush on the Shaun-meister, too?

:toast:

[Deja Q]

11. Let's be glad Ron Paul didn't use those two songs in his campaign...

:hide:

[CorpGovActivist]

14. LOL...

... almost, thou hath ruineth two of my favorite songs.

Almost.

:rofl:

:thumbsup: