Well, You’re No Robert Preston That’s For Sure!!
There are some things I love to crave.
Fortunately, my addictions stem from the mundane. One is Fritos, those crunch little corn scoops full of fat and salt. I don’t eat them anymore. I will eat the entire bag in minutes; ending in a sad act of gluttony that leaves my mouth coated in grease. It is then sore and rough with salt scrape.
That’s my name for it. You know what I mean, it’s that raw feeling you experience on the roof of your mouth from coarse salty foods. The term has no patent, you may use it anytime.
Fritos. I love to hate them.
I smoked in my youth. I loved that too. I quit for 25 years and then started again for a year. It was an idiotic move, but I went through a time when filling my lungs with warm toxic smoke seemed like the best possible choice. I quit after a year. I had many reasons why I quit, but mostly I didn’t like my hair smelling like ass. I have hair issues.
Cigarettes, I hate to love them
Now, the most embarrassing addiction I have is to (this is hard) romance.
I hate that I hate romance.
Casablanca by candle light is a big night for me. Throw in a little red wine and…..I HATE MYSELF.
As a young girl, I wanted to be that tough hard rocker. I listened to a Black Sabbath, and I still contend they are a fine blues rock band. But hidden deep within my record collection were all the gushy mushy love songs of the day and before. Ella Fitzgerald, who I have mentioned a few times on this blog-device and Frank (Awww Frank), there albums were stacked along side Alice Cooper and Ozzie. My biggest dirty secret of the day was Barry Manilow. I would have lost my membership card to Hard Rockers Unite had they known about my Manilow collection.
I am filled with a great deal of self loathing right now.
Romance. Singing about coupling, watching films of coupling, even reading about the pursuit of coupling can be a lovely way to spend an evening alone. This is not a sad thing. That’s the thing about embracing your inner girl, it’s very freeing. I spend long hours with a great deal of men. I get duded out. A little romance is a very cathartic thing.
I have many romantic hot buttons, but one of my favorite is the movie The Music Man. The story is sweet and the coupling is not your usual standard fare.
But it’s the music that sets the core for the romance. Meredith Wilson layered his songs so cleverly. Seventy-Six Trombones/Goodnight My Someone was one of the most talked about musical themes of it’s time. It was almost classical in it’s origin, using the same melody as a march and a waltz. Beautiful music sets the tone for great romance.
I saw the film with my parents in the North Branch, Minnesota movie theater in 1962. It was the first movie I ever saw on the big screen.
The song I remember most: Till There Was You.
Now this was well before The Beatles had a hit with it. In fact, I recall wondering who was singing my favorite song from my favorite movie?
Uh, these guys are no Robert Preston that’s for sure.
I love this song, and I’m sure most of you are familiar with Paul and the boy’s rendition, but what I recently discovered was that Paul didn’t know a thing about The Music Man. His introduction to this beautiful song was from a family member who was a fan of Peggy Lee. She recorded it in 1961.
So here it is, one of my favorite romance moments. The love. The pathos. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, and the happy resolve. Romance. I hate myself.
And she’s no Robert Preston either.