Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Sunday, April 07, 2013

G is for 'Good golly, Miss Molly . . .'

Seattle. 1958. Once we were inside, 
past the young men smoking 
and standing by the door in clumps, 
past the lines at the bathrooms,
the cloakroom, down the long hallway 
and into the darkened ballroom, 
strobe lights flashed through the crowd. 
It was never about the words: 
we couldn't start dancing fast enough:
the wailing saxophone, that stride piano,
the drums, everyone pressed close, 
feeling the music, just letting go.

Those were the days of innocence, 
well before marijuana, cocaine or meth. 
Our parents feared rock and roll; 
but we were the baby boom generation 
with pocket money. We bought those vinyl 45's,  
treasured them, traded them, danced after school. 
The music moved us through those teen-aged years 
when hand-held transistor radios were new 
and the sound tinny, but, my God, 
don't move that dial. Listen! 
That's Little Richard right there,
back in the day when we monopolized dial-phones
for hour-long conversations, 
and Viet Nam was a tiny country 
no one had heard of.



Little Richard in concert, 1956 (Youtube)


I'm wondering when did your parents' music stop being your music? What are your earliest memories? Who were your favorites?

ROW80 UPDATE: From being on the road all last month, I'm somewhat disconnected from my regular routine of writing. This A to Z Challenge (along with a poem a day for National Poetry Month) is taking me right back to the early days of rock and roll. But my office (somewhat messy) presents a fine workspace, and April promises to be productive. Not quite back to routine yet, but today I rolled out of bed at 6 am, ready to work. 

So for this fine ROW80 Sunday check-in, I have little to report but plans, plans, plans. Biggest achievement these last few days -- recovering from that 400 plus mile drive, finishing an 'inspirational' article for ROW80, and finding several resources to build a list of indie publishers. Sometime today (between finishing laundry and replenishing groceries in the empty fridge), I get to read the 7's for ROW80. 

May your writing week go well.