Sometimes I think all day about an important topic I want to write about. And then something random comes along and that’s where I’m at and what I’m thinking about when I get around to writing.
Such as tonight. I just got an email from a cousin with one of those dire warnings. In this one, the author claims that someone called and left a message on their phone saying “Hi, this is Linda, this is important, call me back” and gives an 809 area code number which apparently will open the gates of Hell if you call it or something (I didn’t read that far). My question is, and maybe I’m from a different generation, who calls back a caller they don’t know? Maybe you think you’d do it as a courtesy, but to me, any caller that doesn’t clearly identify themselves and WHY they are calling is a bill collector. And I’m not calling them back.
Mark and I don’t answer the phone at home unless a.) we know it is ringing (it only plays a soft tune in my office so it can’t be heard throughout the house at all, but if we’re watching TV the caller ID pops up on the screen) and b.) we know who it is. Gone, long gone, are the days that we answered every phone call. Caller ID cut out lots of our phone answering, but then when we each got cell phones and we know that anyone that NEEDS to talk to us will call the cell phone, the home phone went silent. Why do we have one at all? The alarm system has to have it to connect with the dispatcher, that’s all.
Just about every day there is a message on the answering machine from a perky recorded voice claiming that this is not a sales call. Of course it isn’t, it is a bill collector! Why would I want to call them back? Okay, if I OWED a bill, I might want to call them and get it straightened out, but they still better leave a message that tells me who they represent. I am quite sure this bill collector is calling about a bill from Mark’s past from over 17 years ago. Sorry, not my problem (and it wasn’t his bill anyway). I suppose that they think they might wear you down by calling every day? I don’t know. Send me a letter if you really think it is that important.
Do you also get those calls where it says, “By continuing to listen, you are acknowledging that you are ____,” and then the robot voice fills in your name? So they think I’m listening when it is only the answering machine picking up? Get into the 21st century folks. (heck, get into the 1980s, isn’t that when we all got answering machines?)
Oh, yes, now I remember what I WAS going to write about tonight. We got us a USB turntable as our Valentine’s present to each other. I’m excited. We have had a turntable for years, but it is connected to the stereo in the living room and I seldom use it to go back and hear my favorite albums. The new turntable is portable (like my very first little record player) AND it can be plugged into a computer in order to move the music from those old records to my hard drive or a CD. That will be nice for the records that were never made into CDs.
The first two records I played tonight were Meet the Beatles and Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player (by Elton John). Both were hugely important albums to me growing up and both must have been played about a thousand times. I played side two of Meet the Beatles and Mark was surprised that there were songs he didn’t know. He didn’t grow up with that album and there are lots of songs on it that were never on the radio (“Little Child” was one). Those songs still absolutely THRILL me and I like hearing them in that particular order. That bothered me when I got the CD. It was the British version of the classic album and there were extra songs and they were in the wrong order. Funny, I put on Side 2 of Don’t Shoot Me… and looked at the songs listed and didn’t think I even KNEW “I’m Going to Be a Teenage Idol.” Once I heard it again, I did, but the mind does forget things, doesn’t it?
My mother bought Meet the Beatles for Mackie and I at the grocery store in Amarillo. While I can’t swear whether it was the Furr’s or the Safeway, I think it was the Furr’s and I have a distinct memory of coming up on it sitting there and begging her to let us have it. Our older cousin Judy was already a Beatles fan and we were certainly influenced by her. This may have also already been after they were on Ed Sullivan, I don’t know. I remember that distinctly, as well, but don’t remember the order of things (give me a break, I was like 4 years old). We had a Montgomery Ward portable record player and I played that album over and over. Mackie was in school by that time so I had it to myself through the day. The next year we moved to the country and the way the piano bench and the mirror over the dresser were situated gave me a perfect “TV” to do my TV show on (watching myself in the mirror). Me and my husband John would talk and play songs from his album.
Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player was the first album I ever bought for myself. It was 1973 and “Crocodile Rock” had already been a hit, I think, and “Daniel” was being played on the radio. I loved that song. My grandfather died that summer in late June. When my cousins were in town for the funeral, my sister, cousin Wyndy, and I went to Montgomery Wards and I bought that album while we were there. I remember feeling a little guilty about buying an album while I should be mourning my grandfather’s death, but I got over that.
It’s funny to look back on these two purchases. We think stores now have EVERYTHING, but most of our grocery stores don’t carry records anymore (okay, the Super Target and Mega Wal-Mart do) and we don’t have records in department stores anymore, do we? Back then, though, we didn’t really have record stores and we certainly didn’t have electronics stores like Best Buy. And, most obviously, we couldn’t pull an album out of thin air at 3 in the morning on our computers.
I guess next I’ll have to pull out Red Headed Stranger and see how it sounds on vinyl again. Another one I bought at the grocery store (Cooper’s in Canyon). It might not have had the thousands of plays the other two did. By that time I had a car.
I do miss the days of really living and breathing an album for a long time. It was a rarity to get an album and I would sit and listen to it on headphones while I studied the album cover from front to back (the addition of lyrics on an album cover or sleeve was a truly wonderful thing). I knew what the songs were about and who had written them and maybe even who played on them. But, then there came the time that I could afford more music and bought more music and had a lot less time. Then I started getting more and more albums for free through work and if I listened to it all the way through that was an accomplishment. Less and less albums became “important” to me. None life changing like those three. What were your life changing albums?