Freddy

All the scars that love erases

Freddy Trump in the Bahamas, 1958

My dad, who died 42 years ago today (now gone for as long as he lived), had two 8-tracks in his car: The Who’s “Tommy” and the original cast recording of “Jesus Christ Superstar” with Murray Head subbing in for Ben Vereen as Judas. Both of these albums became staples in my middle- and high-school years (I still know every word to both of them).

But one of the most vivid memories I have of him is when we stumbled across a box of 78s on the floor of the incinerator room down the hall from our apartment.

(I understand there are a couple of terms anybody younger than Gen-X may not understand, but this was back in the late 1960s. To translate, 78s were simply large vinyl records almost the size of full albums, but they only had one song per side. As for “incinerator rooms,” we actually used to burn our garbage.)

When Dad realized what a treasure we’d found, I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. We spent the week-end going through every single record but there was one, in particular, I loved, and listened to incessantly—the 1951 recording of The Weaver’s cover of “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine,” pressed in burgundy vinyl.

Dad let me keep it and it became one of my prized possessions.

This is the only recording of “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine” anybody should ever listen to. Trust me.

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BONUS TRACK:

I found the cassette of Neil Diamond’s His 12 Greatest Hits in my Aunt Elizabeth’s bedroom at my grandparents’ house around the time it came out in the early 1970s. Whenever we visited, which was at least a couple of times a week, I snuck away to listen to it.

“Shilo” was (and still is) my favorite song from the album, but “Brooklyn Roads” resonated much like “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine.” They both paint portraits of family life that I think we all ached for even as it was utterly beyond our grasp.