Beware – I’m singing again.

My very first record player was a hand-me-down from my mother. It was a heavy, black box with a copper colored turnstile on top. The arm was weighted with a stack of pennies to keep it from skipping. It only played 45s and it shocked me with a little buzz of electricity every time I went to adjust the volume. I loved that record player. I was a bit afraid of it, but I loved what it brought into my life -- music.

I never thought I'd ever see a purple cow
You gotta be in love to see a purple Cow
But since the day you kissed me, Baby
Take a bow, 'cause you've got me seein' one now

As well as the player, I had my mother’s collection of 45s. Actually, I don’t know that the collection was hers. It was full of interesting songs that had likely come to us from all over the place. A few of the records had “Dirks” written on them, which meant they probably came with the house, a two-story farmhouse my parents had purchased from my aunt and uncle before I came along.

One of my favorite songs was on a record so old that it had a nice little hiss of static as it played along. I sang it to my kids a lot when they were babies…

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day (ba-ba-bum)
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away.
For love may come and tap you on the shoulder, some starless night
And if you feel you really want to hold her, you’ll have a pocket full of starlight.

I must have been about seven when my mother finally deemed the old black record player too hazardous to listen to. She picked up a new player at a garage sale. It was red, made of plastic, and when you shut the lid you could carry it with the handy-dandy handle. It probably weighed 1/20th of the player it replaced.

It was about that time that I began to discover newer music. My oldest brother had an awesome collection of 45s tucked under his bed.

I went through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to get out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
Cause their ain’t no one for to give you no pain
La-laaaa-laaaa-la-la-la-la-la-la….

And this one might have come from my sister’s room.

I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
No one recognized me, I didn't look the same

A few years later my sister handed down to me my very first real stereo system. This one wasn’t at all portable. It had speakers to be plugged in and on it you could play albums, the radio, eight track tapes AND cassette tapes. I was stylin’… and groovin’… and whatever the hip words were back then… hip was one thing I was never very good at (probably to be blamed on these experiences during the formative years of my music preferences).

With the stereo, I further delved into the classics of my siblings’ collections, especially my sister’s.

I'm on the top of the world lookin' down on creation
And the only explanation I can find
Is the love that I've found ever since you've been around
Your love's put me at the top of the world

The younger of my two brothers had an album full of trucker songs.

'Cause we got a great big convoy
Rockin' through the night.
Yeah, we got a great big convoy,
Ain't she a beautiful sight?
Come on and join our convoy
Ain't nothin' gonna get in our way.
We gonna roll this truckin' convoy
'Cross the U-S-A.
Convoy!

My parents had an enormous stash of albums in the living room. They also had an enormous player that was the size of a small table. By the time I was ten or so, we were playing those songs on a really cool coffee-table/cabinet looking thing that a neighbor had discarded.

Trailer for sale or rent,
Rooms to let for 50 cents
No phone, no pool, no pets
I Ain’t got no cigarettes

I like to tell my kids stories about going to the mall and shopping in Musicland. They had a table of 45s at the front. I don’t remember the cost, but it must have been just pocket change as I often had enough to buy a new one for my collection.

I’d buy my favorite 45s, and then spend hours recording them onto cassette tape in just the right order, throwing in a few from the radio, as well, even if it meant holding the tape recorder up to the speaker and being absolutely silent through the best songs.

Private Eyes
they're watching you
they see your every move
Private Eyes
they're watching you
Private Eyes
they're watching you watching you watching you watching you

“Tracy, have you fed the sheep? It’s almost dark!”

It was always a tragedy when mom would call for supper or for chores as you were nearing the end of that perfect mix of songs, her voice forever there to remind you...

I can’t remember when I stopped listening to vinyl records. I remember getting a portable eight track player from my brother when he came home from the army. I remember getting a brand new portable cassette player for a birthday in my mid-teens. I kept that stereo from my sister around until our recent move to eastern Kansas, though for the last 10 years or more it had spent more time collecting dust than playing music. Hubby and I, together, have a 12x24 box stacked three-deep with old cassette tapes that I can’t quite bring myself to throw away.

She wore a raspberry beret
The kind you find in a second hand store
A raspberry beret
And if it was warm she wouldn’t wear much more.

Now I have the ability to purchase and download music from my computer. Since my computer is handy and in the kitchen, it is also my primary device for listening to the songs I collect. I’ve burned a number of CDs for listening to in the car. We haven’t yet made the leap to IPods or MP3 players, but I know they’re coming. For now, I like to download a few oldies now and then, just so my kids will have a chance to hear a bit where I’m coming from.

What happened here
As the New York sunset disappeared
I found an empty garden among the flagstones there
Who lived here
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And now it all looks strange

But the real fun comes in discovering the new music they select on their own.

He’s just a sk8ter boy
She said see you later boy
He wasn’t good enough for her
Now he’s a super star
Slammin on his guitar

…and to hear them singing at the top of their lungs from behind closed doors, playing music on a little purple CD player that they will maybe remember as the machine that first brought music to their ears.