What’s in the Old 78 RPM Record Box? Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

Monday, August 16, 2021

 

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PHOTO: file

Music can bring us back, give us a second chance with so many things . . .  memories, mostly fun, sometimes melancholy. It happened with a peek under a bench in the cellar where we found something intriguing that we had forgotten we had (common). We are repeatedly policing (aka downsizing) our home to see if there are things we can jettison, but not this time, not this thing. This was interesting.

It was a metal storage ‘locker’ with center handle on a hinged cover given to us by our brother-in-law several years ago. The container was a perfect fit for a cadre of 78 rpm records that appeared when we flipped the lid.

As we lifted the chronicle of vinyls and read the labels, a wave of nostalgia surfaced.

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I was transported to my youth in the grooves of those records and in the parties in my grandparents’ tenement, one floor below ours, where music, spun on the gramophone, was king. They rolled up the rugs and my older cousins did the jitterbug to Miller’s “Chattanooga Choo Choo,” Goodman’s “Don’t be That Way,” Ellington’s “Take the A Train,” and others nestled in that treasure tin. There were two things that came to mind.

First, my cousins were great dancers; spinning, hopping, jumping, twirling with exaggerated movements that made them look like . . . well . . . bugs. Dancing came so easy to them.

Secondly, I was intrigued by the spin of the turntable. Why?

Legend has it that Ted William, my favorite ballplayer, and the greatest hitter ever, could read the label of a 78-rpm record while it was spinning. Pretty good at 78 rotations per minute. He could also pick out the spin of a pitcher’s curveball and hit it. I was zero for two. I could not read the spinning disc, looking at it until my upset stomach took over and, if I ever hit a curveball, it was by accident and likely with my eyes closed.

But it was not about Ted, the spinning record or the jitter-buggers. It was about something in that unleashed tin of records, something that again became my youth, that made my legs twitch, my foot tap, that made me want to dance (I did learn the jitterbug in high school).

The desire and the rhythm returned, not just that of a band on a spinning record, but of life’s song, a retro feeling more than nostalgic.

Our grandson, Zachary, is an expert at repairing old turntables and speakers. He has been doing it for years. Along the way, he has become an aficionado of vintage records, old 78s, bands, singers et. al. He can chat about those great performers and their records with ease and enthusiasm. He’s in for a surprise as he will be the beneficiary of that metal box and its treasures.

Those old 78s may be a bit brittle, but the memories they summon are as strong as diamonds. And we have someone who will carry that box.

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Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more here. 

 
 

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