I remember when it all began. The hot June sun baked the backseat of my Mommom's Honda. I leaned my head back and let the light turn the back side of my eyelids into a fiery dance of amber and gold. I usually read in the car, but the mixed odors of french fries and mildew made me feel queasy. I always wondered why she didn't fix that leak in the window, though I suppose I would have hesitated to change a livable situation if I had survived the depression with ten hungry brothers and sisters by my side, a father who was losing his mind, and no money to speak of.
School was over and we were taking our final trip to the library. I loved the hours we spent each week surrounded by a thousand adventures. It always astonished me that such amazing things could take place between the narrow binding of a book. I was a reader and I knew it.
But that day, I began an adventure of discovery that was unanticipated.
As I day-dreamed in the glaring sun, I became aware of the strains of a song that I had never heard before. The energy and pulse and glory of the sound were fireworks bursting my world into dazzling clarity. I was instantly enchanted. I felt as if I had never heard anything before in my life. My mommom told me it was a song she had danced to as a girl. She and her girlfriends would take a bus to the army base where the USO would host dances for the men who were about to ship off to battle.
The song and the story intertwined, soaking through my skin and pumping through my veins as my heart beat to the rhythm of the bass, the squeal of the trumpet, and the humor of the vocals. Mommom said it was called "The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy." Even the title made me happy; I still can't say it without grinning.
She passed me a cassette case graced with a photo of the three most glamorous girls I had ever seen. With knowing smiles, they beamed at me from glossy black and white perfection. And that was the beginning.
That was the day I met The Andrews Sisters.
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