Friday, October 1, 2010

Nostalgia Part Deux- The Compilation Begins-

The Artist(s) and The Song(s):

The memory

I was 10 or 11.... geesh- maybe even possibly 12??  I'm playing pool with my Daddy, my older brother and his friend J.N., and my younger sister at  "AL's Pool Haul" in the big city of Talmo, Ga.

My dad- who is the source of at least half of my nostalgic list- took us kids down to Al's every weekend (while Al was in business).  We all played pool- after we straightened out our learning curve- alongside my dad;  and the rough-neck, blue collar guys/gals that my family seemed to fit into far too well.

 My dad was cool like that, though; He was blue collar- but by no means "red neck" or rough.  He was just real- and friendly, and maybe slightly hermit-like?  He brought us along side whatever it was he was interested in doing.  He didn't ask us (often) to sit on the sidelines- bored and whiney- instead, he taught us how to do whatever it was that he was interested in doing.   

From Pool, to Yahtzee. To Spades and Rummy,  Badminton,  Fishing, Swimming, Flea Market shopping (helping Daddy dig through the $1 boxes filled with hundreds and hundreds of old records.) and Crystal Hunting (in the lush back woods, through the cow pastures and barb wired fences,  and finally- down into flowing creek beds to search out our treasures.)

Back to AL's:
I knew how to find 'the right' pool stick, and put the chalk on the end, and I knew how to lean on the table and angle the pool stick down just right to make the ball pop up and jump over the ball that happened to be in my way.  Ya, man!!!  I thought I was AWESOME.
At this point (a few weeks/months of playing)- I feel like I'm a pro.  Like- I really think I am the STUFF.   I knew how to play.... so I mean... it was obvious to me that I surpassed the standard of a 'plain' 11 year old.

I wasn't. I didn't. Nope.  Not even close.  

My big brother... he was sure to bring me straight back down to earth- out of my dream land- and tell me how ANNOYING I was- and how STUPID I acted... and blah blah blah.  What-Ev.  I had my happy cloud moments in my imagination.  (Alright fine- I was pretty annoying- I can't deny it.)

This was probably one of the few (seasonal) attempts I made in trying to 'fit in' with  my brother, who at the time (and for most of our childhood) HATED me.

One  perk to a Dad that likes to have a little bit (a lot) of beer with his pool table experience, is that you kinda get to do what you want, when you want to- with out a whole bunch of frustration from the parental figure.

I wandered over to my dad often- asking for 50 cents here, and dollars there- buying cokes and chips, and snicker bars, and playing music on the old-school jukebox.  

This go-round, when my Daddy gave me the crumpled up $1 bill out of his welder-ripped blue jeans, I remember the part of me that was hoping to impress my brother; I was going to try to make him think I was "cool"- by playing all of the 'new rock' songs on the jukebox {instead of choosing the 'girly country songs I really wanted to hear}.  

Ya---- you know that pool haul had some Metallica and AC/DC hanging out.  I played it.  And I looked at my brother when Enter Sandman started it's ever-popular guitar rifts.....and

He wasn't impressed.... I did NOT gain "you're cool now" status.

Thinking back- I'm pretty sure he made fun of me for it.  
(Gosh. What a turd. Big brothers are seriously lame.) 

Despite myself, and my brother's hideous taunting, I kind of found myself enjoying the loud angry guitar, and the melodious-rants in "Enter Sandman";  This  "heck YA, I can totally kick your tail"  UMPH connected itself to me from AC/DC in "Back in Black".     And thus,  the birth of a new genre interest was created in a clumsy, confused, tweeny-bopper 11 year old girl. 

I wasn't "cool" enough, though- to make these guys a part of my everyday listening. They were, however,  this gateway of sorts- into the introduction of similar music.  

But? That's another blog- for another day.... 

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