Music: Going from 'Retro' to 'Oldie'

Photo credit: Leigh Goessl

When does music go from "retro" to "oldie"? Is there even a difference between the two? 

I've always likened "retro" as days of yesterday, but not too far back in the past, and  the "oldies" was the stuff from my grandparents' era. 

Now I'm not so sure!

Anyone growing up in the 1970s probably considers the '50s and part of the '60s as "oldies" music. For instance, in the greater New York City area, we had a radio station - 101.1 (CBS-FM) - that played music from earlier eras, making it one of the only radio stations (at least that I was aware of) in the region on the dial to play oldies all day long. 

In my memories, this is mostly Elvis, sock-hop type of stuff, mixed in with "downtheshore" and beach music. 

Fast forward to today and what a shock for me when I traveled up north and tuned into 101.1 FM. They were playing primarily 1980s music with a splash of '70s tunes. This even included hair bands and classic rock mixed in with some soft rock and pop songs. 

A few years back I first heard '80s music referred as "retro", but I guess the time has come where it has officially transitioned into 'oldies' music.  Where do the years go? 

Needless to say, this is now one of my more favorite stations to when visiting the greater NYC area (lol).

How did you first feel when the music you listened to as a kid/teen turned into "oldies" tunes?

Flash fiction: Creeping away from danger

David desperately looked around him as he heard the loud explosions crashing over his head. He wondered how he would ever get out of here. If he could only escape. He made a solemn promise to himself if he got out he would never come back to this place again.

Yet, with each opportunity, he returned.

The first time David came under fire he crawled into a ball and tried to wish it away, but the gory images and crashing noises infiltrated his brain. Despite this, still, he returned. Hoping to emerge with a different outcome each time. But it never happened.

In the past this place had always been compelling to him. It was a destination David visited frequently. Lately, the appeal had turned to fright and the violence was getting out of control. During previous visits David always managed to dodge any dangers, but this time felt trapped with no way out.

He abruptly ducked.

"Oh that was a close one," he thought to himself.

David shuddered at the thundering noises, vivid images and that near miss from just mere moments ago; he crawled to the nearby steps. Slowly, David crept his way out of the immediate danger in the darkness and moved into the light. Once he reached the top he made his way down the corridor until he reached the safe haven he knew to be at the end of the way.

The moonlight danced in and out of vision, but there was enough streaming light to help guide the way to safety. Only a few more steps until he reached his refuge.

David spoke out loud for the first time in what seemed like hours.

As he approached the doorway he whispered, "Mom," then a little louder, "Mom!" 

He was grateful to hear a quick response.

"Mom, I had a nightmare. I dreamed about the video games again. This time it really, really scared me!"

His mom had previously advised him to give up the first person shooter games, but he always went back despite her warnings. She gave him a hug, allowed him to sit. He felt safe again.

"Next time I swear I will stay away from those games and play something else. I mean it this time."

Flash Fiction: A shocking betrayal

All morning Sandy had a nagging feeling. No reason why she felt this way, but she just couldn't shake it. With a deep sigh she turned her attention to happier things.

Tomorrow was her and Jim's 10th anniversary, and they planned to celebrate in style. First, dinner at the swankiest restaurant in town. Jim made reservations a month ago, even getting one of the coveted terrace tables overlooking the city. In the morning, they'd set sail, head down the coast, just the two of them.

Sandy spent the morning packing suitcases and buying food to stock the boat's kitchenette. Jim had left at the crack of dawn to ready the boat for their excursion.

Things had been wonderful lately. That other woman who'd almost shattered their marriage was almost forgotten. It was a shocking betrayal, but they'd spent years healing from Jim's infidelity. Their marriage was now solid. Jim had been the perfect husband since ending the affair, so supportive to her, especially after her beloved aunt died shortly afterward. He'd handled all the finances.

As she bagged the food, brief thoughts of the brunette Jim had been involved with flashed through her mind. Sandy pushed those thoughts away. There was no way Bernadette would occupy even a moment of her thoughts. Not this week. Not this anniversary. The thought of Jim cheating still hurt, but Sandy found forgiveness. Why she was thinking about this now she had no idea. Suddenly the nausea returned.

Sandy was just about finished when she had an impulsive idea. Packing up some cheese and crackers, she grabbed a bottle of wine.

"An impromptu picnic while we ready the boat will be a great way to start our celebration," she said half-aloud.

With a quick glance in the rear view mirror, Sandy smiled at the radiance reflecting back. Yes, life was good. Sandy pulled into the parking lot neighboring the harbor, suddenly feeling sicker. Ignoring the feeling she opened the cabin's door. All was strangely quiet. Where was Jim?

She went inside and pulled the curtain to the sleeping quarters. She couldn't believe her eyes. The wine dropped, shattering.

Bernadette spoke first.

"Jim, what is going on? She wasn't supposed to be here until morning. All these years of planning...what about the inheritance?"

"Sandy, you shouldn't have come," Jim said.

Jim reached under the mattress. The last thing Sandy heard was the click of Jim's gun before she turned to flee.

Flash Fiction: Encounter at daybreak

A new day brings new beginnings...

Linda and Patrick's relationship had been a chaotic one from the start. When they met, both had been coming off from tumultuous relationships and each was still filled with baggage from these previous attachments.

It had been 10 years, and Linda was sitting in a coffee shop booth thinking back to that single day.She remembered how they first met at this shop neither one frequented, but both happened to be sitting in on the same morning. The sun hadn't yet risen, and the darkness suited the state of mind both were in on that day.

Despite his gloomy mood, Patrick noticed Linda and grinned. Linda smiled back. She heard a voice, but it took her a few minutes to process what was happening.

"A bit humid out this morning," Patrick had said.

"Just a little," Linda replied, suddenly feeling awkward.

She looked up and there sat Patrick smiling. After a few minutes Linda felt less tongue-tied and conversation flowed easily. The duo talked for hours, until they realized it was already closing in on noon.

"I have to get going," Linda said, remembering an appointment she had and would probably be late for; suddenly not wanting to go.

Patrick eased her hesitance by inviting her for a date for the following Friday evening. She quickly agreed.

It wasn't long before the two became a couple and decided to get married. Soon afterward the chaos began. His ex-wife and her ex-boyfriend continuously caused discord; Patrick had gotten passed over for a promotion and Linda lost her job. The stresses were too much on the relationship and after two years they'd parted ways, eventually getting a divorce.

As the years went by, they never spoke. Linda had moved out of town. Both had wondered "what if" many a time, but neither tried to contact the other.

On a muggy August evening, Linda decided to go for a ride, and ended up driving around all night. Just before daybreak she found herself in front of the same coffee shop she'd ventured into so many years before. Parking the car, she went in, ordered a coffee and shrunk deep into the booth.

Suddenly, the silence was broken.

"A bit humid out this morning", a male voice quietly said. Linda looked up and smiled.

After several hours, Linda and Patrick walked out together into the sunrise, hand-in-hand.

Flash Fiction: Mistakes

Due to their high-powered careers the two had parted ways because they couldn't find a location where they could both work. They'd closed up the apartment in Connecticut to head to their respective new jobs in different cities.

Is it too late to repair a mistake?

Beverly leaned up against the window of the bus taking her from Washington D.C. to New York City. It had been two years since she'd gone back to the northeast. Patrick had no idea she was coming.

Initially, they had vowed to work the distance out, but the 12-hour days were not conducive to a long-distance relationship, and their once-intense closeness began to erode. 
It had been a long time since they'd talked. Beverly even deleted his cellphone number out of her phone. Their last argument had been terrible and regretful words had been said by each of them. With each passing day Beverly knew she'd made a mistake.

After a lot of reflection Beverly decided the money and prestige was not worth this misery. She quit her job and took a much lower profile one in order to try and patch things up with Patrick. Next, she sold the BMW and figured she'd rely on public transportation in the Big Apple; she bought a one-way bus ticket to New York City.

Five hours later Beverly arrived in New York, checked into a hotel and went straight to Patrick's apartment. To her dismay his name was not on the door buzzer. His apartment, #522, was listed with an empty slot.

Beverly sat down on the step and sobbed.

"I waited too long," she said half to herself, half out loud.

Not realizing an hour had passed, Beverly was still perched on the step. An older woman came out of the building and gently asked if she was OK. She couldn't answer at first.
The woman just quietly put her hand on Beverly's shoulder. Between tears Beverly told this kindly stranger the whole story. Suddenly, to Beverly's surprise, the woman gasped and took a step back. Confused, she looked up through tear-streaked eyes.

"I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to upset you further, but my name is Mrs. O'Brien. I own this building. I know Patrick well. He moved out two days ago after he quit his job on Wall Street to move down to Washington D.C."

"He didn't tell me much, only that he'd made a huge mistake."

Poetry - Wild and free

Photo credit: Leigh Goessl

All her life she felt trapped
Wanting liberation
Always just out of reach
A desired salvation

Released from the shackles
Feeling free as a bird 
All ready to embrace life
Her past started to blur

First she ran to the playground
Swung high up on the swings
Danced around a grassy field
Finally free to spread her wings

A chance to start life over
Fresh beginning and new start
Time to live life to the fullest
Her old life she can depart

Her happiness to be found
By living wild and free
For the first time in her life
She's free to be who she wants to be

Memoirs: The toys I grew up with

Photo credit: Leigh Goessl

Growing up in the 1970s was a lot of fun. In those days we didn't have many bright, flashy, blinking or video-centric games the kids of today play with, but even though our toys were simplistic in nature, we had some pretty nifty toys.

Most of the toys I grew up with were made of durable wood. Our parents didn't have to worry about breakage and replacements over the course of time, and boy could these toys withstand some rough play. A few of these toys are still manufactured today, but they don't seem to be able to compete with the electronics and plastics that fill the toy shelves today. It does make me smile though to see a few retailers bringing back "retro items" in those simple boxes.

It seems like only yesterday my siblings and I used to take our brilliantly colored wooden blocks, augment them with Lincoln Logs for extra finesse, and sit for hours building architectural wonders which grew into small cities. In between tall buildings we developed towers and other structures with our Tinker Toys for additional flair.

I also have warm recollections of going to visit our great-aunt and playing Pick-Up Sticks. In those days, even the Pick-Up Sticks were made of wood; the excitement of concentrating and trying my hardest to grasp a stick without moving the others was always thrilling. I actually found my old set (one of the few toys to escape the donate pile) a few years back and I immediately brought those home. 

Colorforms were another wonderful pastime, I can recall how fun it was to take those sticker-like characters and magically pose them in the scenery; my favorite was "Snoopy", although "Wonder Woman" was pretty neat too. All we needed was that piece of cardboard with those small plastic pieces to create stories and our imaginations took us through all sorts of adventures as we strategically placed our colorforms across the mat.

One of the fondest memories I have is of my best friend and I trekking our Charlie's Angels dolls into the woods and setting up camp. We craftily found ways for our dolls go on fearless adventures, climbing through the dangers of the woods to fight crime and solve mysteries. In our campsite we used fallen leaves as blankets, and we tied twigs together to create cots for them to sleep in between excursions. 

As much as I loved playing with those dolls in the woods, the rustic surroundings weren't exactly glamorous and I desperately dreamed of the Charlie's Angels' Hideaway House. Our family didn't have a lot of money and I knew it was a distant wish. I'll never forget the year that there was a big package under the Christmas tree with my name on it and when I had opened it, it was the Hideaway House! To this day I have no idea how my mother managed to find the money for it. 

Santa does indeed work in mysterious ways. My dolls and I were very happy and proud to have a home to relax in after battling the dangers of the woods.

Today, as I browse through the toy aisles, plastic toys with digital enhancements dominate the shelves. While they have a certain appeal and attraction, they just don't hold the same magnetism the toys of yesteryear did. Kids quickly move on from one electronic fad to the next and modern toys don't hold their attention the way those charming wooden ones held ours.

Before one fad ends, another one has already begun, and last year's "hot" toys are quickly forgotten, the majority of toys today aren't "timeless", although there are a few out there that still exist.

For my son, it was all about the PlayStation then later the XBox, but every so often he'd sit down with his baby sister and play with brightly colored blocks. As I watched them build their own architectural marvels together, I'd sit back and quietly smile. Despite all this wild technology progress happening, some things just don't change.

What were your favorite toys when growing up?