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One Man’s Opinion on Records 11/7/1954

Number 4 in a series of 22 columns by my grandfather, Lawson E. Parker, for the Fort Lauderdale Sunday News.

Warning:  SpongeBob makes an appearance.

I wish I could put hyperlinks into the jpg of these scans, then as you read the name of the band you can click and listen, instead of scrolling down to the video. I tried scanning some into PDFs using word recognition or whatever it’s called, but that didn’t work.   Hyperlinks  would be possible if I retyped everything, but that’s not going to happen.

Speaking of typing, I typed a letter to a childhood friend on Grandpop’s 70 year old typewriter the other day; my hands still hurt.   I gave up using the normal asdf jkl; method Mr. Taylor taught us in 9th grade and used the two index fingers like Grandpop did and Dad still does;  it’s the only way with that beast!    But I love the font, so all my cards and letters will be typed on it from now on.

Every time I hear the SpongeBob tune, which is more often than I should admit, it bugs me that I  know it from somewhere;  now I know where.

2nd Warning: Grandpop calls Satchmo a sell-out.

OMOoR 4 Nov 7 1954

 

 

One Man’s Opinion on Records 10/31/1956

Third in the 22 part series of columns by my grandfather, Lawson E. Parker, for the Fort Lauderdale Sunday News.

I’ve heard Bix Beiderbecke’s name all my life. I didn’t know anything about him, though, until the internets came around and I could Google him.

Of course Grandpop loved the Wolverine Orchestra;  Bix was his favorite musician, and Grandpop was a U.of Michigan Wolverine.

On a side note, October 31 was my great-grandmother Grace Parker’s  birthday and my great-grandparents’ anniversary.

OMOoR 3 Oct 31 1954

Victor Moore, on drums, was a realtor in Fort Lauderdale when Grandpop wrote this column.  Apparently, he didn’t live as hard as Bix (cornet, far right) did.

 

Zendafadori?

About a thousand years ago (199x?) I met up with some friends at a bar on Washington in downtown Orlando for a birthday.  It was a somewhat trendy bar (as to be expected, given the group of friends), maybe a little Early-Hipster.     I remember little about the event, other than the birthday boy said I had gained weight as I greeted him (why do we remember that crap?) and that there was a GREAT short story on the wall in the men’s room.    I shan’t repeat the story here, as I have to get off my butt and have a passport photo taken, but the final line of the story was, “Engraved on the front was the word ‘Zendafadori’; this meant nothing to him.”     I laughed (probably more a function of the beverages…) a LOT and even copied the story down into my address book, which I had with me for some bizarre reason.   I loved the build-up, then boom, nothing.   And what a cool word.   It  means nothing to anyone… not even Google.   But to me it sounds… exotic.  Happy.  Tropical (but not hot and sweaty).

Gotta go; Hogan is chewing a pair of clean underwear.   Word UP.

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