Trippin’ Back “Home”
I figure that with all the bad news that’s been going on “out there” these past weeks and months – and, yes, there’s been a ton of it – you’d really like to read something “uplifting” on this page. Something that maybe – just maybe – makes you smile, if only for a minute or two. Well, I’m only here to serve (which may surprise those of you who think I’m only here to fill blank space on this blog).
Let me tell you about the trip I took to Fresno – my hometown – yesterday. I had barely hit the road on Tuesday morning when my cellphone rang. It was a Paso Robles number I didn’t recognize, but I figured, what the heck, I’d answer it. Hands-free, of course. On the line was a pleasant-sounding lady named Florence Odom, who lives right in our neighborhood. She said she had called to thank me for bringing back so many musical memories for her in my most recent column in our retirement community’s magazine — where I described listening to musical CD’s that a colleague at KMJ Radio had made for me years ago. I specifically mentioned songs, and singers, from the early ’70’s.
Well, that had just delighted Florence, and she told me so. She also mentioned she had lived in Fresno. When I told her that I happened to be driving to Fresno as we were talking, she probably thought I was making that up. What I didn’t tell her was that while I was driving – and, yes, while I was talking to her – I was listening to another of the CD’s my radio buddy had made for me. This one featured music from 1964. Whoo, boy. Need I remind you – THAT was a great year for pop singers and songs. The first cut was my favorite summer tune of all time – Chad and Jeremy’s “Summer Song.” You know the lyrics – “Trees, swaying in the summer breeze, showing off their silver leaves, as we walk by….”
Gerry and the Pacemakers were there, with “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying.” Mary Wells sang about the special love she had for “My Guy,” and how nothing in the world could tear her away from him. Gale Garnett sang to her boyfriend about how they would “sing in the sunshine (and) laugh every day.” The Beach Boys belted out “Don’t Worry, Baby,” Dionne Warwick beautifully sang “Walk On By,” and the Dixie Cups sang about going to that “Chapel of Love” to get married because “Gee, I really love you.”
And did I mention that Louis Armstrong was on that ’64 CD as well, with a little something called “Hello, Dolly”? Humn. Seems to me – if I remember correctly – that one may have become a hit.
There were a lot more songs from ’64 as well, but you get the idea. I was singing along and snapping my fingers all the way to Fresno, and why not? After all, I was plugged into the Sound Track of My Life, while I was on the way back to where my life began and where I grew up. Yes, that CD got me to Fresno, where I had a delightful get-together with Bud Elliott and Faith Sidlow at Fig Garden Village. They were anchoring and reporting on KSEE-TV back when I was anchoring and reporting on KMJ Radio, and between the three of us, we counted 112 years of broadcast experience. Normally, that would mean we are old, but I would never imply that about Faith.
After that gathering – yes, we had properly social-distanced – I drove down the street to Fresno City College – where there was plenty of green space to social distance with my old buddy Al Newton. Al and I go back about 57 years – we first met at Hamilton Junior High – and we have plenty of memories – most of which we can, fortunately, still recall. 
I’ve written before about our youthful summer times in the scorching hot Central Valley. I’m pretty sure – even if I am wearing these lovely, inexpensive rose-colored glasses – that those were the best summers of my life. We’re talking about the 1950’s and ’60’s – when TV was mostly in black-and-white (although that pesky peacock occasionally showed up, along with the network announcer who informed us that “the following program is brought to you in living color – on NBC”). As for radio – transistors were all the rage, and I carried mine everywhere – whether I was riding my bike or walking.
In those days, Fresno was a great place to grow up. It was very much blue-collar, middle-class, comfortable and safe. Many of the dads in my Arthur Avenue neighborhood – including mine – worked in shops with their hands. The moms on our block were mostly – if not all – stay-at-homes. What they did during the day – was everything. When the dads got home from work, all they had to do was sit down at the dinner table, read the evening Fresno Bee, maybe take a nap, and stay up late to watch Jack Paar or Johnny Carson host the Tonight Show.
As for us kids – life was oh-so-good and oh-so-easy during those grand and glorious summers. Every day was Saturday – except, of course, for Sunday – and we had 12 or 13 wonderful weeks of “no school.” Our daytime “schedules” involved getting up late, having breakfast (lots of sugary cereal, and toast with butter and raspberry jam) – then heading outside (with our transistors, of course) to plan the day with neighborhood buddies. Lunchtime usually interrupted our planning sessions – but then there we were again each afternoon, splashing around in our flimsy plastic backyard pools – or maybe building a secret clubhouse in one of our backyards – and always listening to rock radio on KYNO or KMAK. Oh, yes – we all drank plenty of Coca-Cola – never, ever Pepsi. And don’t even mention 7-Up.
Dinner took place around 5:30. While we ate, we’d watch Cronkite and the national news, and then the local stuff after that. Then it was back outside, where we played all kinds of ball in the streets – baseball, softball, wiffle ball – whatever was available. We’d play until the street lights came on, and maybe a bit after that – interrupted only by the ice cream man and his little refrigerated truck. We could buy a stick of frozen heaven for a nickel or dime – and we did, every night.
When we finally, and regretfully, went back home, we’d tuck our transistors underneath our pillows and listen to either the Dodgers game (announced by the great Vin Scully) or the Giants game until we fell asleep. It was a wonderful life.
Anyway, back to my present-day narrative. After my get-togethers with Bud and Faith and Al in Fresno, I headed back to Paso. This time, I played a CD with music from 1965. What a time-machine! There were the Fortunes, singing “You’ve Got Your Troubles.” There was Petula Clark, at the front end of what would be a great, great career, singing about how she knew a place “where the music is fine and the lights are always low.” The Beach Boys weighed in with their immortal “California Girls,” Tom Jones sang about how “It’s Not Unusual” to be loved by anyone, Horst Jankowski took us on “A Walk in the “Black Forest,” and the wonderful Jackie DeShannon sang about “What the World Needs Now” is love – because that’s the only thing there’s just too little of. Jackie, you were right then, and you are oh-so-right now, 55 years later.
Well, that’s my feel-good story, and I hope to have another one down the road. I’ve decided that author Thomas Wolfe was wrong when he wrote “You Can’t Go Home Again.” I’m planning to drive back to Fresno sometime soon – and on that trip, I’ll plug in CD’s with songs from 1966 and ’67 – two more great music years. Listening to the Music of My Life – now that, my friends, is the only way to travel.