Bye Bye Love

When I was a little girl, I remember my parents putting an album on the HI-FI Stereo. Yeah, that's what it was called back then. Even if I said "turntable", I'm not sure a whole lot of you would know what I was talking about either, so there's a little retro education for ya. But I digress.

Lucky for me, my parents were music mongers. We didn't have much, and we were by no means well off. But I do remember that if there was a dime to spare, my dad would go to Woolworth's, buy a 45, a 78 or a big, ole' 33 1/3 (that's RPMs not calibers), come home and put it on the turnstyle. I'd lay down on my tummy, on the couch next to the old stereo, with my chin resting on my hands, and watch as the bar dropped the black vinyl record onto the playing surface and the needle arm moved over to the first groove, and wait. Within seconds, the static popping sounds started and I could feel my heart begin to race with excited anticipation. Soon I'd hear that velvety voice:

"Bye bye Love, Bye bye happiness, hello lonliness, I think I'm gonna cry ..."

One after another, the country songs with a soulful spin, would waft out of that old woven fiber covered speaker...

"Take these chains from my heart and set me free
You've grown cold and no longer care for me
All my faith in you is gone but the heartaches linger on
Take these chains from my heart and set me free."

I could feel the angst as I listened. Even with my little girl mind, I knew there was some heartfelt pain...

"Born to lose, I've lived my life in vain
Every dream I dreamed has only brought me pain
All my life, I've always been so blue
Born to lose, and now I'm losing you."

My dad would always rest the jacket, or album cover, up against the side of the stereo. So I always knew what artist we were listening to. This particular artist was one my father idolized. When his records weren't playing in the house, my dad would practice playing his songs on the harmonica or on, believe it or not, his ukulele. No, my dad isn't polynesian, but he's the type of guy that could pick up pretty much any instrument and make beautiful sounds come out of it without any formal training. "That Lucky Ole' Sun" would be one of his favorites to plunk out on the uke:

"Up in the mornin'
Out on the job
Work like the devil for my pay
But that lucky old sun got nothin' to do
But roll around heaven all day."

This musician always moved my dad to say things like..."Man, oh Man. He really knows how to deliver!" or "I'm gonna see him in person some day, I betcha." My dad loved him and his music. I remember times where one of his records would be on and my dad would grab my mom by the waist and pull her close to dance to "I Can't Stop Loving You" and he'd sing it to her while they danced. Of all the gifts my dad gave me, my love for music, and especially my love and admiration for this man, is one that I cherish. That along with the memories that came with it.

My dad never got to see Ray Charles in person. But I did. I saw him at The Greek Theater in 1975 with my cousin Rick. My aunt was pretty wealthy and she was constantly taking my cousin to concerts and cultural events. My cousin would BEG me to tag along. Little did he know I was thrilled. If there had been cell phones back then, you could be sure I would have been calling my dad to let him share it with me. I felt like Mr. Charles was an old friend of the family. When he sang, that's the way he made you feel. Like you were in your living room, lying on your tummy with your chin propped on your hands and your "Uncle Ray" dropped by to visit and play a few tunes.

I'm pretty sure that he's keeping company with that lucky old sun now. Rollin' round heaven all day. Meanwhile, I think it's time to dig out some old albums....

Thanks "Uncle Ray". Rest Well.