We all have songs that remind us of specific periods and events in our lives. Twenty years from now, which song will remind you of the summer of 2014?
At my age, 77, I can’t look twenty years into the future with any assurance I will be able to comment on a tune that caught my attention in 2014. There are other reasons, one being that I’ve come to enjoy classical music – Bach, Mozart, Chopin. I have some that I enjoy more than others, but none I can point out as my favorite. However, every night before Barb and I drift off we listen to a radio station belonging to the City of Dallas – WRR, Classic 101.
But that hasn’t always been the case.
During autumn of 1956 I turned eighteen, stumbled from a Missouri cornfield, and enlisted in the United States Air Force. It wasn’t that I was so much a chest-pounding warrior, as it was that on weekends, while loading cattle feed into a trailer, I often leaned on my silage fork and looked into the winter sky, and watched B-36s taking on fuel from KC-97s. I wanted to be a part of that action.
After basic training I became an electronic student at Keesler AFB, Mississippi – a tall order for someone who was thinking about girls during high school physics and math classes. Physical class time and homework, combined with KP and additional extra duty consumed every waking moment, Monday through Friday. However, Friday evenings I could put my homework on hold and head for the beer garden. The place was jammed with people sharing my same difficulties. No shop talk was allowed. Instead, we chattered about girls back home, girls in Biloxi, and girls in general. Above it all a jukebox hammered out *Little Darlin’* by the Diamonds. If there were other songs on that machine, I never heard them.
To this day I occasionally bring it up on You Tube.
But there is more.
In 1961 I transferred to Beale AFB and moved into the Armament & Electronics Squadron Barracks. Thin, plywood lockers served as walls between the rooms. Each night about 11:30 a fellow working in the Electronic Countermeasures Section, and occupying the room on the other side of the lockers returned from his engineering class and awoke me with his *Unsquare Dance* by Dave Brubeck. It went on and on, or until he’d completed his homework – sometimes two o’clock in the morning. I formed a great dislike for him and his Wollensac tape machine.
However, in 1962 I married Barb and moved out of the barracks. One of the first things I found myself doing was searching for a copy of the *Unsquare Dance*.