I do not remember much about the spring of 1957, the first spring my family spent on Kilian Boulevard. I have vague memories of a tree being removed from the side yard, leaving a large stump that sat there for a few years more. I think I watched as my folks cleaned flower beds and planted their own perennials and annuals around the birdbath and along the south side of the house.
I do, however, clearly remember watching two boys about my age peddling their tricycles across the intersection of Kilian and Eighth Street. They stopped to talk to me as I stood in the yard north of the house. They were heading, they told me, to Wyvell’s store, just another half-block down Eighth Street and around the corner. After a few minutes of kid talk, they peddled on their way to Wyvell’s and its candy counter, and I made my way – I imagine – to the back yard.
That was my first meeting with Rick and Rob, the start of two friendships that have been central portions of my life for the past fifty-five years. From those preschool days on through high school, young adulthood and on, those friendships have endured, vibrant and – I think – essential to my life. (The fact that those friendships have also provided numerous tales to fill the white spaces in this blog is a bonus.)
And as I thought this morning of the ways we spent our time together in the earliest years of our friendships, I thought of our basement, which my friends and I used as a rudimentary playroom during the years before Dad changed it into a wood-paneled rec room. Among its attractions was a battered 78 rpm record player and our small collection of children’s records: I recall “The Muffin Man,” “Three Little Fishies In An Itty-Bitty Pool,” and a few more. The one that came to mind this morning was a recording of “The Music Goes ’Round and ’Round,” a tune that went to No. 1 for five weeks in early 1936 for Tommy Dorsey and His Clambake Seven, according to Joel Whitburn’s A Century of Pop Music.
I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Dorsey’s version we listened to in the basement, but that hit version – with a vocal by Edythe Wright – is a pretty good version to listen to as I ponder the way friendships go ’round and ’round and end up still strong fifty-five years later.
Edited slightly after posting.
Tags: Tommy Dorsey
Wow — cool to hear this.
I’d only previously known this song from the NRBQ version (which is also quite fun…)
Swingin’ Big Band with Rock ‘n’ Roll in it’s early glory years. And, the year I was born.
It’s good to be back on line. I missed the Echoes, whiteray!
I actually have a copy of this exact song by Dorsey, the Clambake 7 and Wright. It’s from a 10 disc LP set from Reader’s Digest that was my introduction to the big bands. I’m stil a fan of the bands today.