The Weekly Wednesday #2

Today would have been Mom’s 82nd birthday. Here are some vignettes of Mom on her birthday.

Singled Out #2: “Puppy Love” / “Adam and Eve” — Paul Anka

This record — Paul Anka’s 1960 hit, “Puppy Love” b/w “Adam and Eve” — is one of a set of my 45s that I commonly attribute to belonging to some combination of my aunts, but I have realized that this one may have been my mom’s first, before it eventually found its way to me.

I am basing this theory on the fact that Mom told me more than once that when she was a teenager and young woman, she thought that Elvis was just OK, but she really went for the teen idols that followed in Elvis’ wake. This would include Paul Anka. Mom also had a 1963 Paul Anka best-of album in her collection, further attesting to her love of all things early Anka.

“Puppy Love” is a fine example of early ‘60s teen pop, probably more well-known among people in my age bracket by Donny Osmond’s hit 1972 cover. As beloved as “Puppy Love” has been, it’s not the song here that I care about. Even as a little kid, I was flipping this record to listen to the florid, entirely over-the-top “Adam and Eve”, a 2:27 biblical epic written by the man himself, Mr. Paul Anka.

I have a special love for pop songs that have outsized production and ridiculous arrangements, and that love may have begun with “Adam and Eve”. All hail Sid Feller for his ace skills as both the producer and arranger of the song.

Paul Anka’s “Adam and Eve” continues to beguile me! I just read the find print on the record label indicating that the song is “From the Universal Picture, The Private Lives of Adam & Eve,” a 1961 “picture” — we should normalize calling movies “pictures” again! — starring Mickey Rooney, Mamie Van Doren, Mel Tormé, Tuesday Weld, and, yes, even Paul Anka!

Wiki tells me that The Private Lives of Adam & Eve was condemned by the National Legion of Decency, a Catholic organization that noted the picture was “blasphemous and sacrilegious", filled with "indecencies and pornography" and contained "blatant violations of Judeo-Christian standards of modesty and decency.”

I look forward to watching The Private Lives of Adam & Eve soon. I will file a review here.

Mom and Pete Rose

Here’s a story about Mom and baseball superstar Pete Rose, who died this week having never achieved the Baseball Hall of Fame status he desired.

Our story starts on June 22, 1977. My sister Lisa and I were spending the week “down the shore”, in Cape May, New Jersey, with our grandmother. That night, Dad and Mom decided to take in the Phillies/Reds game at Veteran’s Stadium.

As fate would have it, June 22, 1977 was the night that Phillies shortstop Larry Bowa, Mom’s favorite player, hit the only grand slam home run of his career. That Bowa has even one grand slam feels wildly improbable, given that he typically was more of a singles hitter.

Happily, Mom got to witness Bowa’s grand slam. The following day, the newspaper printed a photo of Bowa rounding third base, on his way home. Pete Rose is standing behind Bowa, not looking happy. Mom cut out the photo and, when Larry Bowa did a local photo op/signing, she had him sign it.

Mom then declared that someday, she would get Pete Rose to sign the newspaper picture as well.

Fast forward to another Phillies/Reds game at the Vet, when Rose was still a Red. All four of us are there for this one and, as we often did, following the game we were outside the clubhouse doors, hoping to snag some autographs.

Eventually, we were just about the last fans there, as the Reds bus pulled out to head to the airport. But, as we were headed to the parking lot, we encountered two Reds players, shortstop Dave Concepción and pitcher Manny Sarmiento, who were just at that moment realizing that they’d missed the bus.

Dad offered to give the two lost Reds a ride to the airport — it was on our way home anyway — but then, all of a sudden…

…a limousine rolls down Pattison Avenue and pulls up next to us. Pete Rose emerges from the limo to scoop up his teammates. Mom, sensing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, pulls out the newspaper clipping, and asks Pete to sign it.

Pete looks at the clipping. Probably sees Bowa’s signature. Laughs. Emphatically says, “No!”, climbs back into the limo and drives off with Concepción and Sarmiento.

That’s my “Pete Rose and Mom” story, though it is really mine and Lisa’s “Pete Rose and Mom” story. Thanks to Lisa for helping me cobble it together!

Mom and Kris, Because of Course Mom Loved Kristofferson

My mom was a woman in her 30s in the 1970s. Of course she had a thing for Kris Kristofferson. And, while I’m sure she felt like Kristofferson was easy on the eyes, the fact is that what Mom truly loved about Kris Kristofferson was his songwriting.

Mom had the Songs of Kristofferson compilation, which was released in 1977. It was the only Kristofferson record she had. Not sure whether she bought it herself or if Dad gave it to her as a gift.

While Kristofferson had many several albums that fed this compilation its songs, Mom only seemed to need Songs of Kristofferson. She loved his songs, but she often commented that she felt like Kris had a “songwriter’s voice”, implying that songwriters often don’t have the best voices. She put up with Kristofferson’s voice because she loved his songs so much. But once Willie Nelson released his epic Willie Sings Kristofferson album in 1979, Mom found her preferred way to experience the brilliance of Kristofferson’s lyrics.

Prior to Willie’s album though, Songs of Kristofferson got plenty of spins on the living room stereo. This week, I felt like I remembered each of one of those spins, and I am filled with appreciation that Mom introduced me to the work of Kris Kristofferson, straight, no chaser.