Changing Tastes

My tastes have changed over the past 60 + years - in clothes, colors, men and music. I could elaborate on my changing taste in men, as one of my daughters has encouraged me to do, but there's way too much to tell (or not) and I'm saving that for a memoir.

Until two years ago, I didn't care for jazz. The discordance was too untidy. I couldn't follow the logic and since it seemed most songs didn't have words, how could I sing along!

Listening to National Public Radio (NPR) changed all that. I've become hooked on the news coverage morning and evening, the in-depth reporting of unique and interesting topics, the humor of Click and Clack on Saturday mornings and the lively exchanges on Saturday afternoon broadcasts. I listen to the radio as I drive around town, which I do a lot. And most of my driving time is mid-day when only jazz emanates from my car radio. The more I've listened, the more I've come to appreciate the soothing sounds. I'm also amazed at how many of the older jazz tunes sound familiar. My father loved to listen and sing along with his records in the evening. He's probably responsible for my appreciation of music, including jazz classics.

In the fifties, when we got our first TV - black and white of course, one of my family's favorite shows was the Hit Parade. The top hits of the day were sung by the regulars on the show. They would sing the top ten songs of the week. Some songs stayed at the top of the charts for weeks and the challenge for the show was to create a new scene and way of presenting the same song over and over again. Watching was fun for that reason alone. How many ways can you portray, How Much is that Doggie in the Window?

What also happened was that certain songs were forever embedded in my brain. One of those songs has become a staple for myself and my daughters. When I'm dancing with my grandchildren, there's that tune, just as it was when I was dancing with Courtney and Kendall when they were little.

One night I was late.
Came home from a date.
Slipped out of my shoes at the door.
Then from the front room, I heard a jump tune.
I looked in and here's what I saw.
There in the night was a wonderful scene.
Mom was dancing with dad to my record machine.
And as they danced, only one thing was wrong.
They were trying to waltz to a rock and roll song!
One, two and then rock. One, two and then roll.
They did the rock and roll waltz.
Rock two three. Roll two three
They looked so cute to me.
I love the rock and roll waltz.

Perhaps the song also appealed to me because my dad used to grab my mom and dance her around the room to whatever song was playing at the time. He may have been in his work clothes and she in her house dress and apron, but it didn't matter.

So even though my music preferences have changed over the years from the Beetles and other "Golden Oldies" to country (because I could understand the words) and now to jazz, the one song that stands out above all others is The Rock and Roll Waltz. (Now I'll probably have to pay a royalty!)