During the 60s, I loved a band called “The Ventures.” I had all their records and I played them over and over. My mother would clap her hands over her ears and beg me to turn it off. “That is not music!” she’d tell me, “That is just horrible, awful noise!” The other day in the car I turned my satellite radio station to the “oldies,” and right there was a tune by the Ventures! I hadn’t heard them for years, and there they were! I tapped my hands on the wheel along with the straining, wowing chords, and remembered dancing with my girlfriends in the basement — trying to look like the kids on “Dance Party.” I could see what my mom was talking about though; to someone who sang along to Bing Crosby, Dinah Shore, and Rogers and Hammerstein, it was a lot of awful noise. I guess it’s all about what you grew up with. This makes me wonder…will my grandkids wax poetic about Pop?
Lynn’s Notes:
During the 60s, I loved a band called “The Ventures.” I had all their records and I played them over and over. My mother would clap her hands over her ears and beg me to turn it off. “That is not music!” she’d tell me, “That is just horrible, awful noise!” The other day in the car I turned my satellite radio station to the “oldies,” and right there was a tune by the Ventures! I hadn’t heard them for years, and there they were! I tapped my hands on the wheel along with the straining, wowing chords, and remembered dancing with my girlfriends in the basement — trying to look like the kids on “Dance Party.” I could see what my mom was talking about though; to someone who sang along to Bing Crosby, Dinah Shore, and Rogers and Hammerstein, it was a lot of awful noise. I guess it’s all about what you grew up with. This makes me wonder…will my grandkids wax poetic about Pop?