remembering the jukebox

On Friday professoreric posted a request on jozjozjoz. He asked people to write about their favorite jukebox and it's location. In the midst of creating my comment, I realized this would be a great post to my own blog.

For several years of my early childhood I would accompany my father on his "errand days". Back then I had no idea what errands were. To me it meant driving to the big city to walk around several of the huge buildings, most of which were gothic in design and completely fascinating to me. Of course now, being an adult with all the responsibilities of self and family, I am keenly aware of what those errands were. He had no online bill payment or auto-withdrawal options. To pay the bills at the last minute and on time, he had to trek around the city and visit the bank, electric company office, and various other business offices to drop off his hard-earned money.

As a treat for keeping him company on those days, my father would take me out for lunch. Sometimes we'd eat at the restaurant at the downtown department store where my mom worked, but more often we'd go to the little luncheonette at a busy intersection on the north side of the city. We'd always sit at the counter and were greeted by the same waitress bringing a black coffee for Dad and a chocolate milk for me. I'd always order the same thing... a grilled cheese sandwich. On one such occasion, the waitress noticed that I always ate the dill pickle slices first. She asked me why and I told her they were my favorite part. From that day forward, I got about 4 times as many slices as the normal serving.

At the back of the countertop sat a small jukebox, a pedestal version with the round disc on the top that you'd spin to flip through the "pages" of song selections. My dad would give me a choice... money for the jukebox or a dessert. On a hot summer day I'd go for the chocolate ice cream, but typically the thrill of picking a song would be enough to forego the sweets. I'd peruse the titles, having absolutely no idea who most of the artists/groups were, and eventually I would pick a song. The Jackson 5's "ABC" was the most frequent selection but several other favorites would make rotation: "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, "Vacation" by Connie Francis, and Donnie Osmond's "Puppy Love".

There we'd spend time... me kneeling on the stool, eating my pickles and my dad sipping his coffee. With the tunes playing in the background he'd tell me stories from his own childhood or about the plans he was making for our extended family's next gathering or camping trip.

I look back on my youth so fondly. It's the most precious gift my parents have given me. Sometimes I wonder... are my own children going to have similar memories? Have I done enough?