Close your eyes. Write about what you see.

Green Bay Botanical Gardens
July 13, 2012

This is a difficult writing topic for someone like me, who is kinesthetic/audio. I "saw"swirling images to match the racing thoughts that plague me. Scenes from different traumas flew past me, as though my closed eyes became a window like that of Dorothy's in The Wizard of Oz, as she was sucked up into the tornado's tunnel.

Eventually my mind settled on the Vivaldi piece playing in my iTunes. I always listen to Baroque music while I write. I played the violin from sixth grade through my senior year in high school, so when I hear orchestral music my mind sees the neck of the violin and fingers flying across the G-D-A-E strings. I see the bow, with white resin flying into the air when the notes hit a crescendo. 

I don't see the body or the face of the musician. I see the notes take shape and fly into the air. Sometimes the notes take animated form and fly into the air, as if their paying has released them from the violin. Other times the music evokes scenes of nature -- birds, butterflies, flowers, woods, oceans, mountains. If the music is particularly fast, I feel I am flying, the notes the "wind" beneath my wings. Sometimes I see ballerinas dancing -- they are one with the music and move in sync with each note. The images come randomly, can move back and forth from the animated notes to nature scenes to the ballerinas. Music has affected me this way my entire life. 

I remember the first time I became aware of music other than the classical music and Broadway tunes that emanated from the LPs played by my parents on their stereo console. It was the early 1960's. I was three or four years old. In my room was an old radio. It was probably from the 1940's. It was black with rounded corners. It had a clear plastic dial with a red line on it. Behind the plastic dial were cream-colored numbers. The dial turned to line up with a number, and the music came. There were two cream-colored knobs below the plastic dial. One knob turned the radio on and off. The other knob controlled the volume. The radio was small and fit on a shelf in the nightstand next to my bed.

One day I played with the radio and "discovered" music. I also learned that if I turned the plastic dial that the music changed. My parents had put the radio on a classical music station. I found a station that was playing rock and roll. I liked the fast rhythm of the music, and I turned up the volume. It wasn't long before my mother came into my bedroom. She was angry that I had played with the radio. She told me I could not listen to "that" music, and she turned it back to the classical music station.

I was a defiant child. The radio was in my room. I liked the music I had discovered. I decided I should be able to listen to the music. I moved the dial and found the rock and roll music. My mother quickly returned. This time she took the radio from my room. But I did not forget the music I'd discovered. I loved it.

Sunday was a special TV night in the early 1960's. As a family, we lined up on the sofa in the living room and watched The Wonderful World of Disney, then Lassie, then The Ed Sullivan Show -- all on a small 12-inch black and white television. The Ed Sullivan Show ran from 8:00 to 9:00 p.m. When the show ended, it was bedtime for me and my younger brother.

On Sunday, February 9, 1964, the Beatles appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHuRusAlw-Y). I was seven years old. There had been a lot of hype in the media about the event. My classmates had Beatles albums. I was not permitted to listen to Beatles' music because the Beatles all had "long hair." My parents also hated the "yeah, yeah, yeah" from She Loves You and the repetitiveness of I Wanna Hold Your Hand and would mimic the lyrics condescendingly. 

That night, February 9, 1964, as my younger brother and I waited with anticipation for The Ed Sullivan Show to began, my mother announced that we would not be permitted to watch the show and that we would be going to bed immediately. There was much protesting, tears and yelling. We were sent to our rooms, our doors were closed, as was the cavity door in the hallway that led to the living room.

I was determined to watch the Beatles. How could I go to school the next day and be the only student in my 2nd grade class who had not watched the Beatles on TV? Even my teacher had been excited! It would be the Monday morning buzz, and I would be excluded. I slowly cracked open my door and slipped into the hallway. There I discovered my like-minded brother. We snuck down the hallway as quietly as mice. We were able to crack the cavity door, which provided us with a direct shot of the television. We could see our parents sitting on the sofa watching the Beatles, and hear their snide remarks about the music and the appearance of the Beatles.

We took turns peering through the crack in the cavity door. I do not remember if we got caught watching the show, but I have a clear memory of my telescopic view of the Beatles making rock and roll history on The Ed Sullivan Show.