When I was 9 years old I asked mother, "How do women get babies?". She told me in clear medically specific terms. Starting with menstruating through pushing out the placenta. I remember thinking, "please, God, don't let there be diagrams". She finished her talk with this pearl of wisdom, "this is a perfectly beautiful and wonderful act between husband and wife. If you ever have sex with someone other than your husband you will be shunned by family and friends, marked with the sign of the beast and no decent man will ever want you. You will be the lowest form of human". No problem, I certainly wasn't doing any of what she described with anyone ever. This is the last time we ever discussed sex. We may not have discussed sex but I heard about the consequnces of sexual behavior constantly. I was 9! I guess my natural curiosity was interpreted by mother as asking permission to start a bordello in the guest room.
Mother then became concerned that I was "boy crazy". If I mentioned a boy I got a lecture about being decent and not throwing myself at a boy. I did have a crush on one of Brother's friends. Brother had a "combo" with two horns, drums and piano, of course. They played easy listening music like Diane and Blue Moon. The drummer was cute with a capital C. (He became the drummer for Space Opera. Rest in peace, Bret). I would hang out during rehearsal. Mother thought I was "chasing that boy". Really I was humming very loudly hoping I would be asked to be the singer in the combo. I wasn't. If the drummer liked me that was OK too. He didn't.
In February 1964 the Beatles were on Ed Sullivan. This event changed my life. This event changed many lives. I sat in may parent's bedroom and watched The Beatles on their little TV. The family was watching in the den. I wanted to be alone with The Beatles. They were fab!, (my new word). They made performing look like so much fun! Finally, this is what I want. I want to be a Beatle! I spent some time in rapture. After regaining my composure I strode with great purpose in to the den and announced I wanted a guitar. Not an electric guitar. I knew instinctively that was not going to happen. One of those guitars with just strings. My birthday was in April and that was what I wanted. That was my birthday list.
My parent's looked at each other then at me. "Girls don't play guitar", said Dad, mother nodding in agreement. I was not expecting this response. "Don't?", I said, or "can't?" Maybe it was one of the boy and girl rules. "Mary does not play guitar", said dad referring to Mary Travers of Peter, Paul and Mary. Mother continually nodded in agreement. "A nice girl wouldn't play guitar". I walked away very dejected. I knew I could learn to play guitar. The world isn't fair to girls. I began to plot and scheme. I was getting a guitar.
The Beatles's performance was on Sunday night. Monday morning 75% of the boys in school, (ha! math), arrived with their hair combed forward, ala, Beatle hair cut. These new Beatle lovers talked of nothing but starting bands. Everyone wanted a guitar or a bass or drums. This was actually a revolution. I was right there with them. Most girls had a favorite Beatle. I did too. Paul, of course. When asked I would say "Ringo" because I knew that I was not worthy of having Paul as a favorite. Issues? Oh yeah, got 'em.
Jeff and Callie were Beatlemaniacs too but Jeff was bitten like I was. He wanted to be them not just listen to them. Music became the centerpiece of my life. I memorized the first Beatle album. All lyrics, vocal parts, liner notes, sang my own harmony against theirs. They had no idea what they were missing.
Garage bands were starting everywhere. You could hardly walk down the street without hearing 4 little boys trying to play Gloria or House of the Rising Sun. Hullabaloo and Shin-Dig were weekly staples at the Mac's house. Jeff and Callie and I would sit in awe as each group got their turn to lip sync. Jeff and I would study the instruments and the chords. We had no instruments but we were curious about all things rock and roll. Callie and I frugged and did the jerk and Watusi with wild abandon. What could be better than this?
Live bands.
As the garage bands in town got better they began to play at dances and store openings. We had an outdoor mall where local bands would play on the weekend. I loved all these bands they were so talented and just kids like me. There was a band in particular with a lead guitar player who blew everyone away. He was amazing. His name was Oops. Local bands made records that hit number 1 on local radio. I was getting left behind. Where was my guitar?
When I turned 12 I got an instrument. A baritone ukulele. This is a guitar minus the bottom E and A strings. Brother turned 15 he got a Gibson Melody Maker six string with amp and Mel Bay's Book of Chords. I was disappointed but knew better than to complain. Callie got a baritone uke too and we started to play folk songs and sing a little harmony. Her parents thought we were brilliant. I thought we were to but this was not rock and roll.
I started hanging out with some of the guys in neighborhood garage bands. Like a groupie only that wasnt' a word yet. Nice girls didn't do this. It went on the list of thing that were dangerous. "Boy crazy" I would hear mom say to her friends, "I don't know what to do".
BUY ME A GUITAR! THAT'S WHAT I WANT NOT BOYS, I would think very loudly.
Brother soon tired of his guitar as it was just a fleeting fancy for him. I taught myself how to play his Melody Maker. So much for girl's don't or girl's can't. Christmas morning I received a very cheap classical guitar. This was apparently compromise for my parents. I took my guitar to my room and didn't come out except for meals. I had found a way to accompany myself so I could sing. John, Paul, George, Ringo and Lillybelle. They were going to love me!
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