Wow. I love this Connie. Thinking back to my childhood now I'm realizing it's my Dad who more than anyone shaped my taste in music. I still love and listen to all the artists he listened to while we were growing up. Amy Grant songs especially take me back to the days of my childhood although I don't know many other people my age who listen to her. It's kind of funny to realize how other people help shape our likes/dislikes.
My love of music certainly emanated from my dad too. He’d been a Big Band musician (trombone) from the age of 16. Can you imagine allowing a 16-year old from SE Ohio to go out of the road, up and down the East coast with a bunch of musicians today? He shared some of his experiences (like the time frank Sinatra, still a skinny kid too, sat in with them at a club in Harlem) and the advice he got from the oldest guys (stay away from dope).
When he joined the Army Air Corps in WW2, he started a Big Band on his Australian air base. And when he returned home, he started “Harry Kent and his All Vet Orchestra.” That’s how my mom first encountered him at Buckeye Lake -- imagine her surprise when he told her his REAL last name “Chorpenning doesn’t fit on a bandstand.”
My fondest memories are of the jazzy Pied Piper I heard about in bedtime stories!
And one of the CLEAREST messages we got in our family was that if he EVER heard us use the N word we’d be OUT of his house for good. He told the story of one of the Vets in his orchestra, Brownie (no kidding), who was their Black trumpeter. The band showed up to play a gig at a VFW in Parkersburg, WVA one night only to be told that Brownie wasn’t welcome. Dad said all the guys really needed the gig but they agreed that it was all or none. It sounds now like a small thing but it illustrates his championing what’s right and just. I suspect he saw a lot more that in his service experience that led him to that belief. But I’ve tried to emulate his leadership on that as I can still hear him practicing his theme song, “Over the Rainbow” on his trombone from our basement.
In the movie, The Green Book, Black musicians traveling in the south experienced those situations. It’s good to know, people like your Dad were kind and compassionate.
I’m from Cleveland, and 4 years older, but I also listened to CKLW. As a teenager, I remember that station so vividly. I went into the military at 19, and one of my co-workers was from Detroit, and he & I had a conversation about listening to the station CKLW. Those are great fond memories. I’m African American & I enjoyed the variety of music played on the Windsor station.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that my love of music was tied to the fact that music was the thing that brought calm skies to my stormy dad. Such a relief and a harbor for me (and him). Thank goodness we liked the same genres! He was a huge Motown fan. Loved this essay, Connie.
What a beautiful, even the hard bits, memory. Thank you for sharing. My dad felt he couldn't sing, but he loved nothing better to hear all 3 of my siblings and me sing with our mom. We usually did on Saturday nights. I can still see the love on his face. It was one of his favorite things.
We all have a soundtrack of our lives. Thank you for sharing yours. I remember riding in the car with my father to run errands and the Rolling Stones song, Satisfaction, came on the radio station I had chosen. Music was changing then and I remember feeling embarrassed having him hear that song. He never said a word about it but I knew he was listening. Makes me smile now to think about it. Thank you for bringing up that memory.
So many memories that came flooding back as I read. I too was a CKLW devotee-also conjured up the smell of sunshine and baby oil as we laid out listening to it. I have wonderful music memories with my kids-many concerts we went and still do and it’s come full circle trading music with my grandsons. Music helps us express so much:)
Lovely essay, Connie. As I was reading it, I was thinking of Daughters of Erietown (I devoured it when it first was published). A few tears clouded my eyes as I read the last paragraph of your essay. Thank you.
Oh Connie, how once again our lives have tracked. My dad was a Goodyear guy in Akron, and was also a young father who had music and books in every room of our house. Oh, and also didn’t hide his racism as well as he thought he did, as I found out from black friends long after high school. “We always felt welcome at your house but knew we weren’t allowed to date you”.
Thanks for this story today and opening thoughts to my own musical soundtrack. (Mine also included a LOT of showtunes).
I’m a January of 57 birthday so share some of these memories.
This was great to read, and it really made me think of my young years. I, too, was an early music lover. I begged for permission to buy my first Beatles album at age 9. In my early teens, I listened to CKLW at night, when stations far away from State College, PA came in clearly. WLS and WABC were other stations I listened to occasionally.
My father did not share my enthusiasm for any of the music I chose, and he held many similar views to those of your dad.
Thanks for the gift of your writing - it so often evokes clear memories for me, from products we used in the 60s to family relationships and so much in between!
Please do not do this to me in the middle of the afternoon. A warning would be nice, something like, WARNING: Tears may result. Best read at end of day.
Brought back so many memories. Especially the one where I sat in my front yard playing my much fancier than your transistor radio with a handle and a brown leather cover at full blast, prompting the French woman across the street to stomp over, bend down and turn it off while cussing at me in French as she turned around and stomped home.
My dad was a long haul trucker so spent the majority of his life in a truck listening to the radio. Our household was chaotic but I loved it when he would take me with him to the grocery and get excited when he heard his newest favorite song. "Shrimp Boats" was his old time favorite, but he would get giddy when "Peggy Sue" came out. I'm the baby of 4 with a 10 year span from the first to me, so my music history had a wide range of genres. Some of my favorite memories are of my oldest brother, holding a brush in his hand as a microphone, gyrating and imitating Elvis.
My dad was a good person but he was a racist. The two are not mutually exclusive! As a very young first grader, one of my best friends was Black and lived a street behind me. She would wait for me and we would walk to school together (and it wasn't a mile away and there was no hill!) - until the day he said I couldn't do that anymore. It wouldn't look good to the neighbors. So, she would walk a half of a block up the street and wait for me there, where he couldn't see me from my house. That continued through my school years. When I was in college, I invited a black friend to my house. That was one of the biggest arguments my dad and I ever had. I don't remember ever seeing him that angry, but at least he had enough decency to wait until my friend left to lay into me. To this day, I wonder how I never adopted his racist views, but I'm glad I didn't!
Thanks for waking up some memories! Your writing always makes me think and I really LOVE this format!
Wow. I love this Connie. Thinking back to my childhood now I'm realizing it's my Dad who more than anyone shaped my taste in music. I still love and listen to all the artists he listened to while we were growing up. Amy Grant songs especially take me back to the days of my childhood although I don't know many other people my age who listen to her. It's kind of funny to realize how other people help shape our likes/dislikes.
My love of music certainly emanated from my dad too. He’d been a Big Band musician (trombone) from the age of 16. Can you imagine allowing a 16-year old from SE Ohio to go out of the road, up and down the East coast with a bunch of musicians today? He shared some of his experiences (like the time frank Sinatra, still a skinny kid too, sat in with them at a club in Harlem) and the advice he got from the oldest guys (stay away from dope).
When he joined the Army Air Corps in WW2, he started a Big Band on his Australian air base. And when he returned home, he started “Harry Kent and his All Vet Orchestra.” That’s how my mom first encountered him at Buckeye Lake -- imagine her surprise when he told her his REAL last name “Chorpenning doesn’t fit on a bandstand.”
My fondest memories are of the jazzy Pied Piper I heard about in bedtime stories!
And one of the CLEAREST messages we got in our family was that if he EVER heard us use the N word we’d be OUT of his house for good. He told the story of one of the Vets in his orchestra, Brownie (no kidding), who was their Black trumpeter. The band showed up to play a gig at a VFW in Parkersburg, WVA one night only to be told that Brownie wasn’t welcome. Dad said all the guys really needed the gig but they agreed that it was all or none. It sounds now like a small thing but it illustrates his championing what’s right and just. I suspect he saw a lot more that in his service experience that led him to that belief. But I’ve tried to emulate his leadership on that as I can still hear him practicing his theme song, “Over the Rainbow” on his trombone from our basement.
In the movie, The Green Book, Black musicians traveling in the south experienced those situations. It’s good to know, people like your Dad were kind and compassionate.
I just read this essay and then went on to the one about your father. It left me feeling a need to give you a hug. Consider it cyber-delivered.
I’m from Cleveland, and 4 years older, but I also listened to CKLW. As a teenager, I remember that station so vividly. I went into the military at 19, and one of my co-workers was from Detroit, and he & I had a conversation about listening to the station CKLW. Those are great fond memories. I’m African American & I enjoyed the variety of music played on the Windsor station.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that my love of music was tied to the fact that music was the thing that brought calm skies to my stormy dad. Such a relief and a harbor for me (and him). Thank goodness we liked the same genres! He was a huge Motown fan. Loved this essay, Connie.
What a beautiful, even the hard bits, memory. Thank you for sharing. My dad felt he couldn't sing, but he loved nothing better to hear all 3 of my siblings and me sing with our mom. We usually did on Saturday nights. I can still see the love on his face. It was one of his favorite things.
We all have a soundtrack of our lives. Thank you for sharing yours. I remember riding in the car with my father to run errands and the Rolling Stones song, Satisfaction, came on the radio station I had chosen. Music was changing then and I remember feeling embarrassed having him hear that song. He never said a word about it but I knew he was listening. Makes me smile now to think about it. Thank you for bringing up that memory.
So many memories that came flooding back as I read. I too was a CKLW devotee-also conjured up the smell of sunshine and baby oil as we laid out listening to it. I have wonderful music memories with my kids-many concerts we went and still do and it’s come full circle trading music with my grandsons. Music helps us express so much:)
I loved that book and that family in Erie!
Lovely essay, Connie. As I was reading it, I was thinking of Daughters of Erietown (I devoured it when it first was published). A few tears clouded my eyes as I read the last paragraph of your essay. Thank you.
Our parents aren't perfect and discovering that is often hard. I loved reading this and I thank you for sharing such a personal part of your life.
Our parents aren't perfect and discovering that is often hard. I loved reading this and I thank you for sharing such a personal part of your life.
Our parents aren't perfect and discovering that is often hard. I loved reading this and I thank you for sharing such a personal part of your life.
Oh Connie, how once again our lives have tracked. My dad was a Goodyear guy in Akron, and was also a young father who had music and books in every room of our house. Oh, and also didn’t hide his racism as well as he thought he did, as I found out from black friends long after high school. “We always felt welcome at your house but knew we weren’t allowed to date you”.
Thanks for this story today and opening thoughts to my own musical soundtrack. (Mine also included a LOT of showtunes).
I’m a January of 57 birthday so share some of these memories.
This was great to read, and it really made me think of my young years. I, too, was an early music lover. I begged for permission to buy my first Beatles album at age 9. In my early teens, I listened to CKLW at night, when stations far away from State College, PA came in clearly. WLS and WABC were other stations I listened to occasionally.
My father did not share my enthusiasm for any of the music I chose, and he held many similar views to those of your dad.
Thanks for the gift of your writing - it so often evokes clear memories for me, from products we used in the 60s to family relationships and so much in between!
Please do not do this to me in the middle of the afternoon. A warning would be nice, something like, WARNING: Tears may result. Best read at end of day.
Brought back so many memories. Especially the one where I sat in my front yard playing my much fancier than your transistor radio with a handle and a brown leather cover at full blast, prompting the French woman across the street to stomp over, bend down and turn it off while cussing at me in French as she turned around and stomped home.
My dad was a long haul trucker so spent the majority of his life in a truck listening to the radio. Our household was chaotic but I loved it when he would take me with him to the grocery and get excited when he heard his newest favorite song. "Shrimp Boats" was his old time favorite, but he would get giddy when "Peggy Sue" came out. I'm the baby of 4 with a 10 year span from the first to me, so my music history had a wide range of genres. Some of my favorite memories are of my oldest brother, holding a brush in his hand as a microphone, gyrating and imitating Elvis.
My dad was a good person but he was a racist. The two are not mutually exclusive! As a very young first grader, one of my best friends was Black and lived a street behind me. She would wait for me and we would walk to school together (and it wasn't a mile away and there was no hill!) - until the day he said I couldn't do that anymore. It wouldn't look good to the neighbors. So, she would walk a half of a block up the street and wait for me there, where he couldn't see me from my house. That continued through my school years. When I was in college, I invited a black friend to my house. That was one of the biggest arguments my dad and I ever had. I don't remember ever seeing him that angry, but at least he had enough decency to wait until my friend left to lay into me. To this day, I wonder how I never adopted his racist views, but I'm glad I didn't!
Thanks for waking up some memories! Your writing always makes me think and I really LOVE this format!