bad TV, nostalgia, YouTube

Boredom makes me sink to truly horrifying depths…

Happy Saturday to you all. I’m sitting here, looking at grey, wintery skies, and noticing all the melting snow that has turned everything into a sloppy mess. I don’t mind a little snow. I enjoy watching it fall, and when it’s new and clean, and I don’t have to drive in it, it’s pretty to behold. But then when it melts, it turns the backyard into a big sewer. And again, it makes me not want to go out into the world.

Yesterday, I was hanging out at home all day, because I was waiting for packages to get to us. Most of them didn’t arrive until later in the evening. Because I was bored, I decided to go on YouTube. That’s where I ran into a horrifying memory from 1990. Someone had uploaded the entire six episodes of The Bradys.

Now, I am a superfan of the Bradys. I can be counted on to buy books written by the people who were on the show. I have seen all of the spinoffs, including the godawful “variety show” that aired in the late 70s. I’ve even watched the braless Bradys go bowling, for God’s sake!

Someone thought this was a good idea for a TV show?

But, I think that, by far, the WORST spinoff of The Brady Bunch was The Bradys. I think that incarnation, was supposed to turn the corny 70s era sitcom into a dramatic mix of Full House and Thirtysomething, was the most cringeworthy version of the Brady family that ever was. And I was so bored this week that I actually watched the whole thing. It took me a couple of days, because I couldn’t stand to watch it all in one sitting.

The Bradys came about in 1990 after a hugely successful television movie called A Very Brady Christmas aired in 1988. The TV movie, which featured every original cast member except Susan Olsen (Cindy), who was on her honeymoon in Jamaica at the time, got huge ratings. Olsen’s character was portrayed by Jennifer Runyon, a then very beautiful young actress who had been on Charles In Charge— featuring the cringey Scott Baio. Jennifer Runyon is, at this writing, 63 years old. Man, that makes me feel ancient!

When the decision was made to pitch The Bradys, everyone except Maureen McCormick came aboard. Her character, Marcia Brady Logan, was portrayed by Leah Ayres. Maureen McCormick was very wise to avoid this turkey… Even the variety show was better, because at least it had synchronized swimmers. The Bradys was just a very strange show, and I’m not sure anyone knew what they were supposed to be doing.

I mean, there were some dramatic moments in The Bradys. Bobby Brady, played by Mike Lookinland, becomes a racecar driver. He has an accident and loses the ability to walk without assistance. He wasn’t totally paralyzed, because we see him stand up on occasion. But his being in a wheelchair lends to a theme mallet that has patriarch Mike Brady (Robert Reed)– running for public office and installing a wheelchair ramp in their house. The house, by the way, had to be moved, because of a freeway being built near where the house used to be. And then, when Mike wins the election over the incumbent, Gene Dickinson– played by Herb Edelman, who famously played Stanley Zbornak on The Golden Girls— it turns out that moving the house had put Mike in a different district, nullifying his win… for about 30 seconds.

Greg Brady has become an obstetrician. He has a sleazy looking mustache that makes him look totally yucky. At one point during the very brief series, he mentions becoming an orthopedist, so he can help his brother, Bobby. But then, when he delivers a baby at Bobby’s wedding to Tracy (played by former MTV veejay, Martha Quinn), Greg suddenly realizes he was meant to bring babies into the world.

Jan Brady (Eve Plumb) and her nerdy husband, Phillip Covington III, have patched up their marital differences. Now, they want to have a baby. Jan’s and Phillip’s junk doesn’t work, so they have to adopt. They suddenly wind up with a little Korean girl named Patty who is very shy, but knows how to cook Korean soup. The whole thing is bizarre, even for the 90s. And then, somehow, midway through this tragic series, a laugh track materializes, to tell us when we should laugh.

This show had SIX episodes, and THREE different theme songs! The last one was, regrettably, sung by Florence Henderson, herself.

Peter has become a womanizer who can’t seem to settle on a girlfriend and get married. But he’s somehow brilliant at running campaigns and is super dynamic and responsible. Then, for some reason, the women decide to open a catering business, which Greg and Peter work at as waiters after throwing punches at each other.

Cindy Brady is a disc jockey, even though she had a terrible lisp for years, and she doesn’t exactly have the most exciting delivery on the radio. In 1990, Susan Olsen was still very cute, but I wouldn’t necessarily peg her as an announcer. Maybe she should have been a veterinarian or something… or perhaps a car mechanic? I dunno. Either of those jobs seems more plausible for her character than highly successful disc jockey who is being courted for a television show.

I’m surprised this crap ever made it on TV. Even by 90s standards, it was pretty horrible. I mean, yes, a lot of us were big fans of the original sitcom. And a lot of us wanted to see the Bradys again, which is why the TV movies were so popular. But the spinoffs– and there were three of them– were each badly conceived, poorly acted, and embarrassingly executed. The problems were all solved within the hour timeframe, and lacked continuity. I mean, they made Marcia a drunk, for God’s sake! That’s not a problem that just goes away!

I don’t think people wanted to see the Bradys dealing with modern problems, either. The original show was lightweight, clean, and innocent. The Bradys put tire tracks in the pure driven snow of that show… and just like my backyard, it turned into a soup sandwich shitshow in short order.

Still, even though I was cringing the whole time, and I have a new book to read, I continued to watch that monstrosity. It brought me back to the winter of 1990, when I was 17 years old, and about to graduate from high school. It wasn’t the happiest time of my life, but I do remember feeling kind of hopeful about the future, as I prepared to go to college. The show also reminded me of how ugly fashions were back then. Lots of bright colors, vests, and faux features. I mean, they were almost as ugly as the 70s…

I think the best actress on the show was Jaclyn Bernstein, who also had a guest spot on The Golden Girls. She played Marcia’s and Wally’s implausibly dark haired daughter, Jessica. Jaclyn Bernstein has good comic timing and delivers her lines convincingly. I thought she was even better than Jonathan Weiss (otherwise known as Jonathan Taylor Thomas), who went on to be a pretty successful kid actor.

Eh, well… I guess I can justify watching that dross, since it did result in today’s blog post. Otherwise, I might be writing about the recent deaths of Rosalynn Carter, Henry Kissinger, and Sandra Day O’Connor, and wishing certain other foul mouthed politicians were on that list, instead. Writing about The Bradys keeps me out of trouble. 😉

Hopefully, tomorrow will inspire a blog post with more substance. I’ll try to remember to watch The Golden Girls next time I get bored. At least that show never stops being funny for the right reasons.

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Armenia, funny stories, memories, mental health, music, nostalgia, YouTube

“It’s the ninth week of training and… ‘Everybody Hurts’…”

I could write a rant about some truly ridiculous things I read on Facebook and watched on YouTube yesterday. I decided not to today, because that would take a lot of time and energy, and I spent most of the morning writing today’s travel blog post about our trip to Armenia. I may not be doing anything particularly heavy hitting on this blog until I’m done with that series. I want to do a good job with it, because Armenia is a very meaningful place to me.

Still, I did want to put something up on this blog today, so I decided today, it would be a music post. This afternoon, I decided to record the REM song, “Everybody Hurts.” I did so because yesterday, while I was practicing guitar, I happened upon that song and found that it wasn’t that hard to play. It’s also a great song for practicing fingerpicking, which I really suck at.

As I was playing it on my guitar yesterday, I realized that “Everybody Hurts” is very meaningful to me. In my life, I have suffered a lot from depression and anxiety. There have been times when it’s consumed my thoughts and made me behave in ways that were distressing, embarrassing, humiliating, and demoralizing. There have been many times when I’ve wondered why I’m here. I’ve thought I was worthless, and no one would miss me if I just gave up and slipped away somewhere. I know… to many people, listening to that kind of thinking is very tiresome, frustrating, and shitty. I have a friend from college who referred to that kind of self-pity as “brently”. I’ve written the story behind “brently” in my blog, and if you are the slightest bit curious, you can click here to read it.

Even though sometimes I get a little “brently”, I know it comes from depression… “stinkin’ thinkin'” that never leads to anywhere productive or positive. It used to be much worse, though. I was clinically depressed for many years before I finally did something about it, back in the late summer of 1998. It took a few months, but my psychiatrist found the right antidepressant for me, and it changed everything. I still get kind of blue and depressed sometimes, but not like I used to. I haven’t truly felt suicidal in many years. But, because I have experience with clinical depression, I understand where “Everybody Hurts” comes from. I also love the way The Corrs covered it. The key is nice for me, and their Celtic arrangement is lovely. I happened to have a backing track of their version of the song, so I decided to try it.

I think it turned out alright. I’m no sound engineer and don’t have the best equipment, but this is pretty solid for amateur work…

But there’s a different, much funnier reason why I decided to record this song today. It has to do with Armenia. Back in the summer of 1995, I was in Peace Corps training with 31 other people, many of whom were about my age. It was just a few years after REM’s album, Automatic For The People came out. Most of us were familiar with their work, and we were all pretty fed up with training.

Peace Corps training was 12 weeks long, and it was very grueling on many levels. It was extremely hot outside, and we had no air conditioning, because we usually had no power. We were doing our work on the ninth floor of a Soviet era building. We usually had to climb the stairs to get to our training sessions. The classrooms were uncomfortably warm and stuffy, and one person enjoyed removing their shoes during our afternoon sessions… It was one inspiration for learning how to say something “stinks” in Armenian.

One day during a training session, someone got a little snippy and cranky and snapped at someone else… I don’t even think it was me, although I definitely have a tendency to get snippy and cranky when the mood strikes. And one of my cohorts, a hilarious woman named Laurel quipped, “It’s the ninth week of training and ‘Everybody Hurts’.” That was all I needed to pull me out of the afternoon funk that often struck during those days in newly post Soviet Yerevan.

So, since I’ve been writing about Armenia this week, I decided today would be a good day to try “Everybody Hurts” and put the results on YouTube. I suspect it could be one of my more successful uploads. I’m not even much of an REM fan. I do like a lot of their songs, but I never worshiped them like some of my fellow Gen Xers did (and maybe still do). I think “Everybody Hurts” is a very consoling song, though… and there’s something moving about the vulnerable yet masculine way Michael Stipe sings it. However, I also love The Corrs’ more feminine styled version, and it probably suits me better than Stipe’s. So that’s the one I did…

I hope some of y’all enjoy it.

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art, musings, nostalgia

The many stray paintings and sculptures in my life…

If you read my first travel blog post yesterday, you might know that Bill and I went into Wiesbaden. We were on a special mission to have some newly acquired paintings professionally framed. This may not seem like the most exciting thing to be doing on a Saturday. I know that for many years, I would have preferred to have done almost anything besides visiting an art gallery with picture framing services. For most of my life, I found most anything involving picture framing unbearably dull. Why? Because I literally grew up in the business.

In 1980, my parents moved from Fairfax, Virginia to Gloucester, Virginia. For so many reasons, that move rocked my world. My dad had retired from the Air Force in 1978, when I was about to turn six. We moved from England, which was the only place I remembered living, to suburban Fairfax, where we lived down the street from my Aunt Doris and her family. Now, we were in very rural Gloucester County, where my father was going to be running his own custom picture framing business called The Corner Cottage.

The Corner Cottage was the name my parents gave the business, which was literally run out of our house. Prior to that, the framing business was called Ellis Smith Enterprises. That was the name of the tacky guy who had owned the house before my parents bought it. He really was pretty tacky– I remember he had put a mirror over the bed in one of the bedrooms. I guess he liked watching himself with his wife. I remember the bathroom in that room had a plastic, brown, padded seat and ugly mirrors all over it. My parents promptly redecorated that room, starting with taking down the mirror over the bed!

My parents’ decision to move to Gloucester and buy Ellis Smith Enterprises changed everything for me. My dad went from being an Air Force officer, to a salesman for the Solite Corporation (he sold gravel and concrete and such), to a self-employed picture framer who also sold art. I hated Gloucester when we first moved there. I still didn’t like it when I permanently moved away from there in 1999. It’s only recently that I’ve started appreciating the county where I grew up and can see why people love it. Of course, Gloucester has changed a lot since 1980, although a lot of the same people (or their descendents) live there.

As a kid, I had no interest in art, other than enjoying elementary art classes at school. I truly thought my parents’ business was really boring. Making matters worse was the way my dad would make me do things like clean behind the chopper, where he would cut moulding into precise pieces. I had to vacuum the shop and dust the pictures. All the while, he’d be watching CBS day TV, especially The Young and the Restless, which was his favorite soap. Or worse, he’d be listening to WFOG, the local easy listening station, which played absolutely cringey Muzak, which he’d sing along to. I’d watch him when he was on the phone, using his left hand to doodle mindlessly while he talked. I was reminded this morning of the many doodles my dad made over the years. He probably had a gift for drawing that he never explored.

For most of the years he ran his custom picture framing business, Dad had a woman working with him. For the first few years, it was our neighbor, Joanne, whose daughter was a year older than me. Joanne later opened her own framing business, which failed. Then he hired Deborah, who was a much better fit on many levels. In some ways, she was kind of an angel. She was, and still is, a tremendously talented artist in her own right, and she didn’t/doesn’t have a drinking problem. When my parents retired, Deborah eventually bought their house and the business. She still runs it today.

As I got older, the framing business sometimes came in handy. I never had to buy posterboard, because my dad had the vastly superior matboard available. He also had professional grade window cleaner, which I wish I could get ahold of now. Sometimes, he’d do fun things with products from his business. One time, he made me a periscope out of matboard, mirrors, and tape. That was cool.

My mom was also part of the business. She had her own shop, where she sold knitting, candlewicking, needlepoint, cross-stitch, and other art related supplies. My mom is super talented with a needle, among other things. In her 85 years of life, she has made many beautiful things with a needle and thread or yarn, as the case might be. And her business survived, even when Walmart came to town, because she offered high quality products, professional services, and had incredible talent for turning a canvas into a masterpiece. My mom’s business also occasionally came in handy for me, too. I grew up showing my horse, Rusty, and I never wanted for yarn for braiding his mane and tail. I never learned to knit or cross-stitch, though. I had no interest.

My mom taught many people– mostly local women– the secrets of her craft. I wasn’t among her students because I also found her business boring. I don’t have a gift for creating things with needles and threads. I don’t have the patience or diligence to stitch beautiful designs into cloth. Although I appreciate colors, I have a hard time deciding on color schemes. Consequently, a lot of my own artistic creations are a mess. My sister has artistic talent, no doubt taken from both parents. Me? My gift from them is music… but when I was growing up, I wasn’t interested in doing that, either. It wasn’t until I was an adult that making music captured my heart.

As a middle-aged adult, I’ve discovered that I like art, too. I like to buy art more than make it, because although I do like to draw, I’m not particularly good at drawing. I don’t come up with cool visual concepts like artists do. When I think of something I’d like to draw, something else intrudes and it turns into something too busy and messy. When I was growing up, I liked art class… until I had a teacher who asked me to draw only what I could see. I found it very difficult, even though being asked to do that was kind of revolutionary. It was at that point that I stopped taking art classes. I simply don’t have the knack.

My own personal artistic expression comes in the form of music and writing, probably in that order. I’m much better known as a writer, but probably more appreciated as a singer… especially when I behave myself and sing nice songs. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you might know that sometimes I’m provocative. I like to cuss, and I’m not always nice or politically correct. I like to challenge people and make them think. And I won’t lie… sometimes I enjoy shocking people. But when I sing a pretty song written by someone else, people usually like it. They don’t always like what I write. Of course, if I start writing songs, all bets are off as to how that might turn out. I’ll keep working on learning guitar. Maybe sometime, I can experiment.

So what does this all have to do with yesterday’s outing? I’m getting there…

As I was talking to the guy who took our order, breathing in that familiar smell of art supplies, moulding, matboard, and window cleaner, I noticed a very weird sculpture on the top of a curio. It was a very provocative piece of art. I have a feeling it’s no accident that they put it where they did. It would be easy to miss it. And yet, it seemed to jump off the curio at me, as if it wanted me to take it home. I kept looking at the sculpture and even snuck a photo of it.

It’s ugly and weird… and I would love to own it.

We didn’t buy the sculpture yesterday. We were too busy talking about what we wanted to do with the paintings. I had two kitschy dancing cat paintings we bought in Prague that I wanted to be framed. But I also had a gorgeous painting (see featured photo) that I found in Cesky Krumlov. Like the above sculpture, it had jumped off the wall at me… like a stray dog, begging me to take it home.

I remember walking into the gallery, noticing all the usual landscapes and modern depictions of people… and then I saw this fascinating painting of a bunch of different birds. I loved the colors. I enjoyed the weird paranoid mood of it, even if I’m not particularly interested in birds. It stopped me in my tracks and made me think, just like the weird sculpture above did. I found myself telling the proprietor I had to have it. She was delighted, especially when we threw in a pretty but somewhat less interesting painting of a snowy church in Cesky Krumlov.

The way I found myself saying “yes” to the painting is the same way I said “yes” to adopting Noyzi the Kosovar street dog. He was unlike any other dog I’ve ever had in my life. I worried that he’d turn our house upside down… and right now, he’s lying behind my chair, quiet and contented. I don’t regret bringing him home.

I also don’t regret bringing home any of the weird art in my house. And I do have a lot of weird art. I suspect it annoyed our former landlady that my taste in art is so strange and unconventional. I’m sure it helped convince her that I’m a terrible, peculiar, perverse person who deserved to be disrespected and cheated.

If that sculpture is still in the gallery when we go back to pick up our dancing cat paintings, there’s a very good chance I’ll buy it. I think it might be meant for me. I don’t know where I’ll put it. Maybe in the downstairs bathroom? I can’t stop talking about it, though. Just this morning, I was talking about how the way the artist depicted the hairy spots and the breasts… it reminds me of the face of panda bear. You see? I love that. I love art that makes me see other things and think about what else could be. I don’t care if it’s ugly, obnoxious, or weird… or depicts things like someone taking a shit, which is a universal part of life for every creature.

Some of the weird art in my office. Each piece has a story.

If the sculpture isn’t there when we go back to the gallery to pick up the art, I guess it wasn’t meant to be… We will be back at least twice, though. The painting in the featured photo has to be mounted and stretched before it can be framed. That will take time.

If the gallery does a good job on this, I may go back with more art that needs framing. We have a dinosaur painting that has great sentimental value to us. We bought it from a Russian artist named Korelov in Karlovy Vary (Karlsbad) in the Czech Republic, back in 2009. At that time, we couldn’t afford custom picture framing. Now that we can, maybe it’s time I had it done… You can see it below with the cool painting we bought in Greece in 2013 and had framed in North Carolina.

If you come to my house, it won’t look like my mom’s house. My mom has beautiful stuff everywhere, artfully arranged. She’s a very neat person, so clutter is minimal. My house is messier. Not everything matches or coordinates seamlessly. I have some stuff that is odd and even offensive. You might not like it. But I’ll bet some of it will make you stop and think. That’s my goal… Come to think of it, making people stop and think is also often my goal when I write blog posts.

Yeah… some of my art is like a stray dog, begging to come home with me, where it will be loved and appreciated. I know it’s crazy, but I kind of love that sculpture. I almost wish we still lived in our old house in Jettingen. I’d buy it and display it in a conspicuous place just to annoy our former landlady. 😀

I’m kind of petty that way… 😉

We’ll see if I am meant to buy that piece of art. If I am meant to give it a home, I may have to ask for opinions on where it should be displayed… Seriously, though… maybe I’d put it in the bathroom and remind myself that my body could always look worse than it does. At least my body doesn’t remind anyone of a panda bear.

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memories, music, nostalgia, TV, YouTube

The Price is Right had some truly amazing music and musicians…

It’s 8:45 AM on a fine Thursday morning, and I’m just now starting today’s blog entry. I didn’t sleep particularly well last night, as I had to get up a few times to visit the loo. I also went to sleep kind of late, because I was reading that book I mentioned in yesterday’s post. As shocking as it was yesterday, it was more so last night, so I read until well after 11:00 PM. When I started noticing my iPad falling backwards, I decided to put it away and go to sleep. I also took a nap yesterday, which I seem to do after lunch. The funny thing is, I fell asleep while watching a vintage episode of The Price is Right. I’m surprised I could sleep through that, with all of its bells, buzzes, beeps, and music.

Ever since Bob Barker died at the end of August, I’ve found myself watching old episodes of The Price is Right. I find them oddly comforting, especially when I happen on an upload that has original commercials. If you were born in the late 60s or early 70s, you came of age during the golden age of game shows, and The Price is Right was at the pinnacle! The funny thing is, the incarnation of the show most of us know is actually a revival version. There was an earlier version of The Price is Right that aired from 1956-65, and the newer version, which began in September 1972, was based on that show. Who would have thought a spinoff would be so much more successful than the original! The Price Is Right has been airing for almost my entire life, and I am now 51 years old. I was two months old when the first episode aired in September 1972.

I suppose one of the things that makes me feel so comforted by The Price is Right is the music. People love to talk about the announcers, the hosts, and the models, but for me, the music is everything. And for so long, they used the same cheesy 70s era music they always used, even when the show had been airing for decades! I haven’t watched a new episode of The Price is Right in a long time, since I’m in Germany. I did read that they just opened a brand new studio, finally retiring the familiar stage in Television City where it was set since 1972.

According to Distractify.com, the lot where the Bob Barker Studio was located was sold to Hackman Capital Partners. The sale necessitated the relocation of a number of television shows, because Hackman Capital Partners is now renovating the lot. I don’t know if Bob Barker’s recent death had anything to do with the timing of the move… I would imagine this was planned well before Mr. Barker’s demise. Maybe it’s a good thing he passed before he could see the show he made famous moved to a new studio, located in Glendale, California (where many Armenians live).

The renovations being done by Hackman Capital Partners are slated to be finished by 2028. Does that mean The Price is Right will be back? Who knows? I’m sure it all comes down to money, and a lot was likely invested in the new studio. I read that the new studio is eerily similar to the old one; it’s just in a new location.

Anyway, since I don’t watch new episodes of The Price is Right over here in Germany, the new studio is neither here nor there to me. I do actually like Drew Carey as a host. I think he’s more respectful than Bob Barker was. As folksy and entertaining as Bob was, he did have a tendency to be kind of sexist. Sometimes he was even blatantly rude! But he was always rude with a friendly smile on his face, which is a special talent. 😉 In fairness to Bob, it couldn’t have been easy to be so friendly and folksy all the time. People can be truly exasperating. That’s why I never tried to be an entertainer myself.

I do, however, think I might have really enjoyed getting to know the people who composed music for The Price is Right during the Barker years. A few weeks ago, I got so enthralled by the 70s era music that I went looking for information about the composers. It started when I heard what many of us of a certain age associate with another game show, Family Feud. On early episodes of The Price is Right, you’ll sometimes hear this very same tune played when they offer a car as a prize.

Yeeee haaaaa! A nice country melody, complete with horns, bass guitar, drums, and a banjo!

The Family Feud theme song sounds very Nashville, but it was composed by a man who was born in New Jersey and played in big bands. Walt Levinsky was a clarinetist who was tutored in New York City and later attended the Music Conservatory at Lebanon Valley College in Annville, Pennsylvania. He also played saxophone, flute, and keyboards. After he finished music school, Levinsky played in several well known orchestras and served in the Air Force. When he was finished with his military service, Levinsky joined the NBC orchestra, then started playing music for commercials. He played with Doc Severinsen for The Tonight Show, and the CBS Staff Band.

Walt Levinsky made the most of his woodwind skills and worked with some of the biggest and best known musicians of a bygone era. But it’s probably his game show music, which he composed when he was working for Score Productions, that really endures. Levinsky’s work in television music includes the Family Feud theme, among other things. I was marveling at the complexity of the Family Feud theme, and what it took to compose and arrange it. And then I realized how I felt when I listened to it. It’s a piece of music that conveys excitement and optimism, but most of all, it’s FUN. Who wouldn’t want to be a contestant after hearing that musical introduction?

Walt Levinsky was just one of the amazing musicians who made The Price is Right so indelible in so many people’s memories, especially for those of us with a music bent. Edd Kalehoff, who has the distinction of being Broadway singer Andrea McArdle’s ex husband, also wrote a lot of memorable music for The Price is Right. Andrea McArdle, for you young folks, was the very first person to be cast as Annie in the musical by the same name.

A very entertaining clip of different Annies, circa 1982.

Kalehoff was born in 1942, making him a bit younger than Levinsky, who died at age 70 in 1999. While Levinsky was a woodwind master, Kalehoff is a master at keyboards and synthesizers. When you hear the main theme song on The Price is Right, you are hearing Kalehoff’s work, even though the tune is officially credited to Sheila Cole. Kalehoff composed and played the piece, but due to money concerns on the part of the production company, neither the official credit nor the royalties went to Kalehoff. That’s pretty shitty…

Classic theme song… it’s a work of genius! The whole thing is a masterpiece.

Imagine what it took to come up with that arrangement, with all of the different instruments… the melody, the synthesizer, the jamming bass line, rhythm, and Bossa Nova flavor. It kind of blows my mind, actually… and when I hear it, I’m reminded of the rare condition of being home from school in the late morning, watching people in California winning prizes. It’s a treasured childhood memory! Of course, it’s funny to watch 70s and 80s era episodes today, especially when they offer cars with that super exciting music. Most of the cars are kind of shitty. I’d rather win a trip!

A really excellent compilation of cues from The Price is Right. I wonder how many budding brass players practiced to some of these musical interludes.

Edd Kalehoff composed music for a number of other shows besides The Price is Right, to include the theme song for Double Dare, which was an 80s era staple for Nickelodeon. But I am most impressed by his work on the game show, as it’s endured for so long, as still makes me smile, even though so much of it sounds like it’s straight from 1976.

This particular piece sounds very much influenced by Herb Alpert…

Of course, The Price is Right was also famous for its many familiar sound effects… I was always amazed by the sound technicians on that show. They really had to be on their toes to react very promptly, depending on what happened on the show.

The sound crew had to be ready with the loser horns or the bells and whistles! They almost never missed!
The musicians really had to be on top of their game to play this without messing up. Such complicated rhythms and intricate melodies were not for amateurs! And then they had to inject the bouncy, sunny, lighthearted mood into the tempo, too.
The bass line on this is killer! I hear a little Brady Bunch and Carpenters in there, too…

Yesterday, as I was making the bed after washing the sheets, I actually wondered if Amazon Alexa had these very motivating cues available. Alas, Alexa let me down… so I had to make my bed to Keb’ Mo’, instead. I still marvel at how these bouncy, sunny, cheerful musical creations so perfectly inspire optimism, happiness, excitement, and hope. And when someone lost, there was a little flatulence…

It’s unmistakable and unforgettable, and will make you laugh…

I think I’ll close this post with a true classic…

This one was usually played during the Showcase Showdown.

Of course, I’m mostly crowing about the music today, but honestly, the whole show was pretty amazing. Even the models had a challenging job. Somehow, they always managed to look cute and friendly, even when they were showing off Preparation H or some other boring product. They mastered the faux look of disappointment when someone lost, and the equally faux excitement when someone won. And even though Dian Parkinson, Janice Pennington, and Holly Hallstrom were on the show for years, they all managed to stay beautiful, yet relatable. They were always so graceful and poised, even when Bob Barker made some kind of snarky or sexist remark. I have to admire their poker faces. For so many reasons, I definitely would not be good at that job! Especially given some of the ugly clothes they had to wear.

I know most people don’t stop and think about the mechanics of game show music, but to me, it’s marvelous stuff. The imagination and talent it took to come up with the music– it’s unmistakable and unforgettable, but it also manages to influence, shape moods, and inspire people to do things they might not otherwise. That is truly amazing, if you think about it… it’s the stuff of psy ops. I guess that’s pretty much what commercials have always done, too… especially back when commercial productions were so much more produced than they are today. I don’t remember the last time I heard a good jingle hook, for instance. The people behind The Price is Right managed to turn an hour long commercial for mundane products into something a lot of us loved to watch, and continue to watch, even 50 plus years later.

Anyway… that about does it for today’s post about The Price is Right and its awesome 70s era music that endures today, even though it also sounds dated. I love 70s music, though, so that dated sound is a huge plus for me. It’s Thursday, so that means it’s vacuum day. I guess I’d better sign off and get to it.

I hope some of you have enjoyed this look at my all time favorite game show. Please remember to help control the pet population by having your pets spayed or neutered. 😉

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family, love, memories, nostalgia

“We’re all gonna be here forever…”

This morning, I woke up to a delightful surprise from one of my cousins. He sent me a private message with a photo that was taken during the summer of 1981. I smiled with instant recognition, as I gazed at the picture of me, at age 9, with a bunch of my cousins and a friend of my cousin’s family.

Years ago, on my original blog, I wrote a blog post called “Family Reserve”. It was about a couple of relatives I lost in 2015. The post’s title came from a Lyle Lovett song by the same name that seemed appropriate. I wrote in those posts how I came to discover Lyle Lovett– courtesy of Mormons, no less. Maybe I’ll repost those old memorials today, since I’m referencing them in today’s post. Anyway, his song “Family Reserve” reminded me of my own family… but since I already used that title in another post, I decided to use part of the chorus as the title for this one. If you don’t know this song, and can abide Lyle Lovett’s music (and I certainly can), I would encourage you to listen to this great song by him.

Seems appropriate for today’s post… I’m glad someone made a stir on that summer day in 1981.

My cousin, name of Bruce, could not have known that I still have many vivid memories of that day at Tank Hollow, as well as the ones that surrounded it. I had just had a birthday, and Bruce and his brothers, all of whom were adolescents, had traveled from Texas to Virginia with their parents to visit other family members. Because they lived in Texas, I didn’t get to spend a lot of time with them when I was growing up, even though my family almost always has a family reunion at Thanksgiving. For three years of my early childhood, we lived in England, so of course we didn’t go “home” for the Thanksgiving party. Prior to our time in England, I was too young to remember what we did. We were in Ohio before England, but I was a baby then, having moved to Ohio when I was about six months old.

When we came back to the States, I slowly got to know the relatives I never spent time with. And in 1981, I was acquainted with the “Tolley Boys”, as they were called– four sons of my Uncle Ed and his wife, Nancy. They came to visit my parents first, in Gloucester, Virginia. At the time, two of my sisters worked at Busch Gardens, which is located close to nearby Williamsburg, so we had a bunch of free passes. I remember we all went there for the day and had an absolute blast, even though I lost my wallet. The “Tolley Boys” were like my big brothers. They treated me like a princess, and of course, I ate it up. It was not a normal or usual thing for me to be treated like that.

After their visit to my parents, Ed and Nancy were going to be visiting Natural Bridge, Virginia, which is where the “family homestead” is. My grandmother lived in the house that has been in our family since 1935, along with my Uncle Brownlee, and his wife, Gayle, and their two kids, Justin and Suzanne. I don’t remember why, but there were other family members there that summer. Nancy and Ed took me with them to visit Natural Bridge. Later, my parents came to get me.

Below are some much more modern photos of Granny’s house. It’s been fixed up a lot since 1981. My Uncle Brownlee was extremely handy, and he really made the house a showplace before we lost him in 2019.

I remember that trip was so much fun! I mean, I got in trouble a couple of times… but Uncle Ed was a really fun uncle in the early 80s. He knew where all the best swimming holes were, and he liked hanging out with us kids.

One day, we all got into the back of my Uncle Brownlee’s pickup truck and rode to a place he called Tank Hollow, in Natural Bridge. It wasn’t very far from where my great grandmother lived (she died the following year, in 1982). As a matter of fact, I think we visited her on that trip. I seem to remember her house as a brick structure near a creek, much as Granny’s house is. There are lots of creeks in Natural Bridge, as it’s in the mountains and near the James River. Edited to add: I see there are other falls in Virginia called Tank Hollow– in a place called Cleveland in Russell County. Please note, this is not the same place— I think Ed called the falls “Tank Hollow”, because they were located off of Tank Hollow Road in Natural Bridge. I don’t know if the falls we went to even have an official name.

Tank Hollow was in the woods, and it consisted of a waterfall that overlooked a murky pond. We were all wearing tennis shoes, because of all the rocks and such. Next thing I knew, we were all jumping off the waterfall into the cold, mountain pond. I remember being so enthralled by the experience. The waterfall seemed huge to nine year old me, and I felt so brave jumping into the water and swimming in the creek. It was one of those days when I experienced “pleasant exhaustion”. You know, when you play so hard that you wear yourself out… That’s how it was that day.

Me and nine out of my 21 paternal cousins (plus a friend of the Tolley boys), circa 1981.
Not unlike aspects of my childhood. 😉

I remember the next day, we all went to the James River. We made homemade fishing poles with sticks and string, baited hooks with worms, and fished in the middle of the river. I don’t remember why, but I recall Uncle Ed threatening to spank me for some reason. He never did, but I do remember the threat. I probably mouthed off one too many times. I also remember my Aunt Nancy threatening to send me home. Still, that was also a fun and memorable day, spent with a bunch of my cousins. Ed and Nancy had driven a big Suburban, and it got stuck in the mud.

Here are a couple of other memories from that trip…

My cousin played this repeatedly during that visit.
This song was a huge hit that summer, and I remember hearing it a lot during that visit in 1981.

Granny’s house was located next to a “hollow”, that had once been part of the original property my grandfather bought years earlier. I remember we weren’t supposed to go walking “down the hollow”, because it was no longer owned by our family. Brownlee once lamented to me about that, because it really was a heavenly piece of property, with two creeks that met each other and flowed to the river.

Anyway, sometimes we would walk down the hollow. I went with my cousins, Jeff and Jeff. One Jeff was the son of my Aunt Doris, and had once been my neighbor, as we had lived in Fairfax County for two years before we moved to Gloucester. The other Jeff lived in Natural Bridge with my Uncle Carl and his wife, Betty, and very little sister, Lori. Natural Bridge Jeff was telling the other Jeff a really dirty story. It was the kind of story that adolescent boys tell each other. Of course, I was nine, and eager to grow up. I heard the story, laughed with them, and later repeated it to two of my younger cousins, then aged 7 and 5.

My Aunt Gayle overheard me repeating the story I’d heard from my older male cousins on that walk. She promptly “blessed” me out, as she put it. She told her kids that I had a “dirty mouth” and they shouldn’t listen to me. I remember crying, because I didn’t know I’d done anything wrong… She later apologized to me and said her kids “didn’t know what to do with that stuff”. Hello? I was only nine years old myself. I didn’t know, either. 😉 Oh, I probably knew it was “forbidden” stuff, but I was still just a child in need of guidance, right?

In spite of the few negative incidents that happened during that visit, I remember it to be a really fun time and a happy memory. For many years, I remembered going to Tank Hollow and fantasized about visiting again and swimming there. Years later, I asked my uncle about it, because I didn’t even remember where it was located. I said I remembered it to be a big waterfall we jumped off of a bunch of times.

I clearly remember Ed saying, “That was Tank Hollow. And the waterfall wasn’t that big.”

I had such a hard time believing that, because I remembered it to be huge from my memories as a nine year old child. One day, during the summer of 1993, I visited my relatives in Natural Bridge, and we went to Tank Hollow. I was there with Aunt Gayle, and my cousins Justin and Suzanne, and one of Justin’s Army buddies. Sure enough, I saw that Ed was right. The waterfall was a lot smaller than I remembered it. But we jumped off it anyway. Somewhere in storage, I have photos from that day, not that I’d necessarily want to look at myself in a bathing suit, even when I was 21 years old.

When Bill and I were dating on Labor Day weekend in September 2001– the week before 9/11, actually– he came down to Natural Bridge and met my extended family. I took him to Tank Hollow, which now seemed even less impressive. The water was even murkier than it was before, and I wondered if there were snakes there… that thought hadn’t crossed my mind at all, when I was a child, or even when I was a younger woman. I also took him to another local swimming hole called Straw Pond, and we went swimming there, and at Cave Mountain Lake, a park area with a lake where we used to go when I was a kid… I loved it then, but saw it through different eyes as an adult.

A photo of Goshen Pass, dated November 2014… when I was last “home”.

Then, we went to Goshen Pass, another special place in my past, as I remember having my sixth birthday party there, with members of my huge, extended family, and my Granny giving me Sweet Honesty perfume in a bottle shaped like a sheep. Goshen Pass is a beautiful place, and it’s probably where Bill and I realized we were in love. We had a magical day enjoying the gorge. Then, the following week came 9/11. Bill was in the Pentagon– in the area that was hit by the jetliner. When he survived, we realized we should probably go public. It wasn’t long after that that we were engaged.

Natural Bridge has always been such a special place to me. And yet, I haven’t been there in almost nine years… I never thought I’d stay away for so long, nor would I have ever expected to feel “weird” about being there now. But, I have to admit I do feel weird. So much has changed since those days in the early 80s.

My Aunt Gayle still lives in Granny’s house. I hope it will never leave the family, because it really is a magical place, and there’s so much family history there. The road it sits on is actually named after my grandfather, Lloyd Tolley, who used to run a store there that sold basic essentials.

In fact, in the old wax museum (which closed in 2014), there was a wax depiction of one of my distant relatives– my great great great Uncle Archibald “Bar” Tolley. I think his nickname was actually “Bear”, but because of the Scottish-like hillbilly accent in those parts, it sounded more like “Bar”. I see another blogger has written about him here, and a bunch of my apparent relatives are chiming in. He was famed for hunting and killing a lot of bears, and was said to be known for his honesty and “salty” tongue (so that’s where I get it).

By coincidence, last night, I was reading about “Bar” Tolley, and figuring out how we’re related. I can see his father, Ezekiel, was my 3rd great grandfather, and his brother, Thomas Milton Tolley, was my great great grandfather. So, that would make Archibald “Bar” Tolley my great great great uncle, I guess. 😉 It’s so funny that he was immortalized in the Natural Bridge Wax Museum! The link leads to a video someone made about it. I’m so glad I took Bill there over that special Labor Day weekend in 2001.

Well… it’s always a delight to see old photos and remember things through rose tinted glasses. I do have some fabulous memories of when I was a child. We did have a lot of fun, especially during those less “regulated” times. Or maybe it just seems that way to me, because I was a kid, and I wasn’t worried about the things that worry adults of every age. I’m grateful that my cousin, Bruce, shared that long ago photo of us on that awesome day in the summer of 1981. I miss those times… and those people.

Here are the lyrics for Lyle Lovett’s old song, “Family Reserve”:

When I saw the ambulance screaming down Main Street
I didn’t give it a thought
But it was my Uncle Eugene
He died on October
The second, nineteen eighty-one

Now my uncle Wilbert
They all called him Skinner
And they said for his younger ways
He’d get drunk in the morning
And show me the rolls of fifties and hundreds
He kept in the glove box of his old gray Impala

And we’re all gonna be here forever
So mama, don’t you make such a stir
Just put down that camera
And come on and join up 
The last of the family reserve

Now my second cousin, his name was Calloway
He died when he’d barely turned two
It was peanut butter and jelly that did it
The help, she didn’t know what to do
She just stood there and she watched him turn blue

And we’re all gonna be here forever
So mama, don’t you make such a stir
Just put down that camera
And come on and join up 
The last of the family reserve

And my friend Brian Temple
He thought he could make it
So from the third story he jumped
And he missed the swimming pool only by inches
And everyone said he was drunk

And there was Great Uncle Julius
And there was Aunt Annie Miller
And Mary, and Granddaddy Po
And there was Hannah, and Ella
And Alvin, and Alec
And he owned his own funeral home

And there are more I remember
And more I could mention
And words I could write in a song
But I feel ’em watching
And I see ’em laughing
And I hear ’em singing along

We’re all gonna be here forever
So mama, don’t you make such a stir
Just put down that camera
And come on and join up 
The last of the family reserve

Sigh… :'(

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