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