A BIG BOUQUET OF ROSES

I am going to tell you a story that will sound familiar to many of you.  I am featuring the picture of the artist who recorded it and was the one who kept it on the Country Music charts for a record [no pun intended, yet!] 54 weeks.
There are many songs that we all know and perhaps will never forget.  I quoted one for you not too many days back.  Remember, "J'irai la voir un jour?"   That was in a moment of celebrating the passing of one of my classmates.  I don't remember a specific moment of great interest in the process of learning and remembering that canticle.   I also remember learning the French 101 ditty entitled "Au Clair de la Lune."  Doesn't everyone on earth know that one?  I know that I have mentioned that one on these pages once upon a time.  Check it out here.
The song I am writing about here came to my mind today as we were visiting and having a good time with our elder son.  I don't know why.  Who knows what triggers these random flashes of memory?  But it sliced its way onto my mind just as clean as a whistle and the artist and the lyrics and the story behind it all came in one slick slice of ethereal reality.
MJT Dion wanted a record player.  An electric, portable machine so that she could play music when she wanted it.  She wanted her radio for soap operas.  She really pleaded and plagued EFR Dion for this particular type of equipment.  She took out the heavy artillery when she started to mention her desire in front of us children at the supper table.  I remember that her birthday was approaching.  As the day drew closer and closer, the breathing got heavier and heavier.  I remember EFR Dion being always cool.  Focusing his gaze on his daily shot of Cognac after a long day's work.  When the big day came, EFR requited the volcanic desire of  his loving mate.  He gave her the record player.  It was portable all right...according to the standards of mid-twentieth century, of course.  It was not portable in the sense of the portable radio was portable.  This machine had to be plugged into a source of electrical energy.  It was not equipped with batteries.   Those would come later.  Now all she needed was a record.  "What?  No record?  Oh, how could you do that?"
"Whaddya mean, dear?  You never asked for a record?"  She was not fooled.  She knew her man.  She burst out laughing because she knew that this was the moment of the great put-on.  It didn't take him long.  He realized that had been "had."  She he took out the records.  Two of them.  Four songs.  At least that is what was usually available on records, even in 1947.  I am here to tell you that we never, ever heard them.  What we heard was, "I'm sending you a big bouquet of roses, one for every time you broke my heart."
You can listen to it here.   Yep, they sounded like this 65 years ago.
As you listen to this lovely ballad, try to picture yourself hearing it dozens of times every single day, morning noon and night for God knows how many weeks.  It was now our turn to turn to EFR Dion and beg him to buy another record.  He tried.  it didn't work.  I am convinced that she played Eddie Arnold so often that it wore out.  It is also possible that the needles [Yes, boys and girls, it used to require needles to play records] ran out and EFR Dion just "forgot" to buy another supply for a little while.  Good thing too...we were just about nuts.
So, ask yourselves if you ever learned a song this way.  There are perhaps not too many of you who can remember how the first electric record player made it into your life.  Now you know how it happened to me.
You know what's different about our lives these days?  We love to tell and hear stories of how this "old" stuff came to us.  I'll bet that you don't care a hoot about the story of my reaction the first time in my professional life I was expected to operate a PC.  That doesn't go far enough back.  I will tell you the story of the steam engine and the jet plane.  Keep your eyes peeled.