Music was ever-present in our lives. It runs through time like a thread, tying everything together. There is no more certain way to trigger a memory than to hear an old favorite song. Mom and Dad always had the radio on and Nat Cole and Jo Stafford seemed like members of the family. I can remember hearing the King Cole Trio as far back as my memory can go. Later, as I mentioned earlier, songs like “My Happiness” always remind me of those evenings spent with Grandma, after bingo.
Mom and Dad had a sizable collection of 78-rpm records, featuring the King Cole Trio, Nat Cole himself, Jo Stafford, Glenn Miller, Johnny Ray, and others. More about that stack of records later. Dad liked Frank Sinatra, but Mom wouldn't listen to his songs because he had divorced his first wife.
And there’s a whole group of songs whose memory is bittersweet. Nat Cole sings “Funny” or “Somewhere Along the Way.” Johnny Ray sings “Cry.” And, most of all, Jo Stafford sings “You Belong to Me.” All those songs, and more, take me back to the days when Mom and Dad were splitting up.
The sound of the Chordettes singing “Mr. Sandman,” or “Teach Me Tonight” by the deCastro Sisters takes me back to an evening when I sat at the dining room table (which was in the living room of our apartment), listening to the radio and building a model airplane, a Cessna, as I recall.
I remember hitch-hiking to Latrobe with Tom McManamy to buy “That’ll be the Day” by Buddy Holly and the Crickets. If we had taken the bus, I wouldn’t have had enough money for the record. “Chances Are,” by Johnny Mathis, takes me back to the dances we went to at the Latrobe Armory and, later, at Danceland, also in Latrobe. “So Rare,” by Jimmy Dorsey, brings memories of decorating the hall for the post-prom party when I was a junior in high school. (Decorating was as close as I got; my date had to be home by one AM, while the party ran all night, so we couldn’t go.)
Grandma Chamberlain loved the old hymn “In the Garden.” She’d sit for hours in the chair next to the side window in the living room, crocheting doilies or stitching quilts, occasionally humming that tune. We still have some of the things she made. I remember one day Grandma walked past as Grandma Chamberlain sat working on a doily. She glanced down as she passed, stopped, and said, “No, no, Mum, that’s not right. Do it this way.” She grabbed the work and tossed off a few quick stitches, then handed it back. I didn’t even know she knew how. Grandma’s favorite was “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” I still can't sing that song without a lump in my throat.
Then there’s Christmas. I don’t remember when we didn’t listen to Bing’s “White Christmas” and Nat’s “The Christmas Song.” Gene Autry’s original “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” always reminds me of a blustery day when I was walking home from the last day of school before Christmas vacation. There was snow in the air, but none on the ground, and the winter wind was cold by Pennsylvania standards. Why do I remember that day? I have no idea.