Daily Photo: Jazz Man on the F-train platformMy parents recently re-did their living room. The new ficus tree and paint colors received a lot of conversation time over Thanksgiving. My brother's and my high-school senior portraits had been taken down during the redecorating process and I asked my mom when they would be re-hung. She grimaced. "Oh, those were 12 years old, Kris. I think it's time," she said. Then proceeded to outline her plans to replace them with chosen prints from her recent travels. I see where the love is.
I remember what that room looked like, long before those portraits were taken. Long before the teenage angst set in. Back in the days of yore: my childhood. Picture green shag carpeting, dark paneled walls, and a TV console the size of a small Buick. Oh yes - and an 8-track machine.
I especially remember the ol' 8-track machine around Christmas-time, churning out all the classics (Bing, Perry, Nat, Mel, and of course, Frank). The sound of their voices today still harkens me back to childhood, and green shag carpet, and cookies before knowledge of calories, and a time in my life where the thing I wanted most (except for maybe a pony) could be found on the pages of the J.C. Penny catalogue and wrapped up in a box under the Christmas tree.
Ah, youth. Anyways, I'm thankful for my merry Christmas memories, and thankful they can still be conjured by those timeless classic Christmas songs, if no longer on an 8-track than on an iPod. Oh yeah, I'm also thankful for my iPod.
I remember what that room looked like, long before those portraits were taken. Long before the teenage angst set in. Back in the days of yore: my childhood. Picture green shag carpeting, dark paneled walls, and a TV console the size of a small Buick. Oh yes - and an 8-track machine.
I especially remember the ol' 8-track machine around Christmas-time, churning out all the classics (Bing, Perry, Nat, Mel, and of course, Frank). The sound of their voices today still harkens me back to childhood, and green shag carpet, and cookies before knowledge of calories, and a time in my life where the thing I wanted most (except for maybe a pony) could be found on the pages of the J.C. Penny catalogue and wrapped up in a box under the Christmas tree.
Ah, youth. Anyways, I'm thankful for my merry Christmas memories, and thankful they can still be conjured by those timeless classic Christmas songs, if no longer on an 8-track than on an iPod. Oh yeah, I'm also thankful for my iPod.
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