Sunday, May 24, 2009

Rite of passage

I'm hearing a lot about "The Prom" lately. A rite of passage, an integral ingredient in a young girl's development. I didn't go to 'my prom'.
I hung out with a small group of what would now be called hippies, in a little shack on a friend's property that skirted the railroad tracks in a rural southern California town, listening to the oud on our Crosley Stack-o-Matic.
The rite of passage obviously isn't the same for all young girls.

3 comments:

AMGallegos said...

rural!?
Oud!?
Stack-O-Matic!?

CJGallegos said...

Remember, Aaron, I'm talking about the 1950s. We were in love with the oud. The place belonged to Donald Byrd who now teaches art in LA, and the Stack-O-Matic? Well it speaks for itself.

smartz said...

Aaron stole my thunder. I must have been and divorced several times before I ever even heard of an oud, let alone listened to one. I'm impressed my dear.