The rip you hear is not your pants!

Published: Thursday, February 20, 2014 at 10:56 AM.

 

 

            Mother wasn’t sure about Elvis. And only her strong Christian upbringing kept her from outright disliking Jerry Lee Lewis. She asked me once, “What does it mean, ‘I’m itching like a man on a fuzzy tree’?” 

            “It’s just a song, Mom! The guy is all shook up!”

            “Well then, explain, ‘You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain.’”

            Momma thought that “Rock and Roll” music was tearing at the very fabric of America. “Son, I fear we are losing tiny pieces of that fabric here and there. We are a great nation. No person or foreign enemy can attack us directly. But I worry about little rips from within…….”

            I scratched my head in bewilderment. How could anybody be so unhip? A daily dose of rockin’ music was good for the soul. My generation was tired of Guy Lombardo and Lawrence Welk. We wanted something that hopped! And besides, she was talking nonsense. Fabric was the cloth she made our shirts out of. It didn’t have nothing to do with real or imagined enemies, foreign or domestic!



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