I'm trying to get rid of stuff. My New Year's resolution for the last few years has been to give away or sell things I don't use. So, of course, my mother thinks this would be a good idea for her as well. Guess what happens? I "inherit" a boatload of new stuff.
This is how I got my piano a few years ago. But a piano is not much fun if you don't have any music, right? So my mother is cleaning out her cabinets and I end up with about three large boxes of sheet music and songbooks. I'm not complaining, though- there's loads of good stuff in there. All Tin Pan Alley stuff from the teens and 20s, 1930s movie songs, show tunes, you name it- I probably now have it.
But I had to go through all of it, piece by piece and separate out the good stuff from the things I will never, ever, play. There were some oddball things in there as well, like 45s from when I was a child.
One of them was a Little Golden Book with a read-along record, The Little Engine that Could (c.1956). On the back it says: "Both parents and children alike will take to these ingenious gift sets...Parents will now be able to let the phonograph take over the job of reading 'just one more.'"
Sounds good to me!
And I took it one step farther, even: I loaded the record into the jukebox so I don't have to flip it over. All I have to do is push K5 and K6 and the jukebox reads the story.
Now, if only the jukebox could give them their baths, we'd be in business.
This is how I got my piano a few years ago. But a piano is not much fun if you don't have any music, right? So my mother is cleaning out her cabinets and I end up with about three large boxes of sheet music and songbooks. I'm not complaining, though- there's loads of good stuff in there. All Tin Pan Alley stuff from the teens and 20s, 1930s movie songs, show tunes, you name it- I probably now have it.
But I had to go through all of it, piece by piece and separate out the good stuff from the things I will never, ever, play. There were some oddball things in there as well, like 45s from when I was a child.
One of them was a Little Golden Book with a read-along record, The Little Engine that Could (c.1956). On the back it says: "Both parents and children alike will take to these ingenious gift sets...Parents will now be able to let the phonograph take over the job of reading 'just one more.'"
Sounds good to me!
And I took it one step farther, even: I loaded the record into the jukebox so I don't have to flip it over. All I have to do is push K5 and K6 and the jukebox reads the story.
Now, if only the jukebox could give them their baths, we'd be in business.
I have faith in you, Susie. If anyone can convince the jukebox to give baths, it's you!
ReplyDelete(Congratulations on your plunge...into blogging. The other one I can relate to, too, with our two paid-for but limping-along vehicles.)