As I grew closer to the family, my visits became more frequent and lasted longer. Often, I wouldn't leave for home until after the conclusion of the 10:30 p.m. episode of MASH. As a result, I became somewhat of a fixture in the den of their house, in my mind an extended part of the family that included its core members, and often a sister and a brother who moved in for extended visits.
The Dad, a man just a half dozen years older than my 20 years, eyes at half mast due to his very early morning schedule, would sit in the recliner, close enough to the television that he could change channels with his big toe during the commercials. Eventually, when I was no longer present as a visitor to be entertained, he started breaking out the guitar and playing tunes while he toe surfed.
Even though we were fairly close in age (I certainly regarded him as a peer), the songs he chose to sing when his inhibitions were relaxed were from another era. None of the Led Zeppelin or even Elton John tunes that were popular then. In fact, he usually played nothing even recognizable to me. He played old 50's era rock and roll.
One song in particular I remember that he liked to play was called "Teen Angel," a hit from about 1960, with as much pure teenage angst as you can pack into a rock and roll song.
I can see him now, leaning back in his recliner, strumming his six string guitar, serious as can be, singing slowly:
Teen angel [pause, strum],
Teen angel [pause, strum],
Teen angel, ooh, ooh.
When he would sing "ooh, ooh," he would close his eyes and stick out his chin a bit like a hound howling at the moon with total abandon, oblivious to anything around him.
Then, as he began to sing the rest of the song, it didn't matter at all where his lovely wife happened to be (kitchen, back of the house putting kids to bed or where ever), she would join us and sort of melt as he crooned the first verse of the song at a more regular, but still slow and moving tempo:
That fateful night the car was stuck upon the railroad track
I pulled you out and we were safe, but you went running back
I have no idea whether this song was one they danced to, or if their performance was a tongue in cheek charade, but they appeared so serious and infected with the song, that eventually, everyone in the room would join in the comparatively up-tempo chorus:
Teen angel, can you hear me?
Teen angel, can you see me?
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love?
The rest of the song lyrics are even more sentimental and tear-inducing, but we never made it to the end (I'm not sure anyone knew all the words anyway). In fact, the singing was generally secondary to the television wind down, so whatever his big toe found an interesting interlude or the episode of MASH returned from commercial break, the singing stopped.
The Dad, a man just a half dozen years older than my 20 years, eyes at half mast due to his very early morning schedule, would sit in the recliner, close enough to the television that he could change channels with his big toe during the commercials. Eventually, when I was no longer present as a visitor to be entertained, he started breaking out the guitar and playing tunes while he toe surfed.
Even though we were fairly close in age (I certainly regarded him as a peer), the songs he chose to sing when his inhibitions were relaxed were from another era. None of the Led Zeppelin or even Elton John tunes that were popular then. In fact, he usually played nothing even recognizable to me. He played old 50's era rock and roll.
One song in particular I remember that he liked to play was called "Teen Angel," a hit from about 1960, with as much pure teenage angst as you can pack into a rock and roll song.
I can see him now, leaning back in his recliner, strumming his six string guitar, serious as can be, singing slowly:
Teen angel [pause, strum],
Teen angel [pause, strum],
Teen angel, ooh, ooh.
When he would sing "ooh, ooh," he would close his eyes and stick out his chin a bit like a hound howling at the moon with total abandon, oblivious to anything around him.
Then, as he began to sing the rest of the song, it didn't matter at all where his lovely wife happened to be (kitchen, back of the house putting kids to bed or where ever), she would join us and sort of melt as he crooned the first verse of the song at a more regular, but still slow and moving tempo:
That fateful night the car was stuck upon the railroad track
I pulled you out and we were safe, but you went running back
I have no idea whether this song was one they danced to, or if their performance was a tongue in cheek charade, but they appeared so serious and infected with the song, that eventually, everyone in the room would join in the comparatively up-tempo chorus:
Teen angel, can you hear me?
Teen angel, can you see me?
Are you somewhere up above
And I am still your own true love?
The rest of the song lyrics are even more sentimental and tear-inducing, but we never made it to the end (I'm not sure anyone knew all the words anyway). In fact, the singing was generally secondary to the television wind down, so whatever his big toe found an interesting interlude or the episode of MASH returned from commercial break, the singing stopped.
©2007 David R. Childress. All Rights Reserved.
1 comment:
A good story! I smile remembering Joe & Brenda. She was my SS teacher, but you really had a different relationship with the than the rest of us.
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