Tonight in the city
You won't find any pity
Hearts are being twisted
Another lover cheated, cheated
In the bars and the cafes, passion
In the streets and the alleys, passion
A lot of pretending, passion
Everybody searching, passion
You won't find any pity
Hearts are being twisted
Another lover cheated, cheated
In the bars and the cafes, passion
In the streets and the alleys, passion
A lot of pretending, passion
Everybody searching, passion
I've already told you guys that music played a huge part in everyday life for me as a kid in the 80's. My dad had the most enviable record collection but of course, there was conflict along the way. My mom didn't exactly love his hobby and she blatantly disapproved of a lot of the artists that he brought in the front door. He got away with a lot but it was fairly well known that dad was expected to keep a close eye on what 45's I wanted. The only problem there was that because music is such a subjective thing he just wasn't inclined to tell me no.
Dad suffered through several spinning's of "Disco Duck" before being happy to watch me move on to ABBA. Dad might have been a classic rock kind of guy but he had no problem encouraging my love of disco, at least until I discovered Pat Benetar and then my taste was all over the place.
I still can remember this one Saturday afternoon when he and I drove to a record store in a strip mall next to a Kmart (back when the blue light special was alive and well). There were several record stores that we would frequent and if you told me that they wouldn't exist a few decades later I would never have believed it. Anyway, the Saturday afternoon deal was always that I could get a 45 or 2 if it was a really good week. I looked and looked, knowing exactly what I wanted, Rod Stewart's "Passion". It was probably 1980 and not exactly appropriate for a 9-year-old. Dad actually said no, probably because he envisioned my mom's reaction if he bought it for me.
The next weekend I had a plan. I had 179 pennies in a sandwich bag because if it was my money he probably wouldn't stop me. I walked up to the counter with "Passion" in one hand and the pennies in the other. The shop owner made me count them out and then he scooped them up and dumped them into his register drawer. I think my dad secretly liked how nervy I was, but warned me that my mom would be pissed & he would likely get blasted too.
I don't remember her words exactly but I do remember him defending me and saying I probably just loved the music (true story) and he wasn't going to stop me if I had the nerve to bust my piggy bank for it. Needless to say, "Passion" got thrown in the garbage but about a week later my dad bought it and magically gave it to me after he was done with it. For years afterward my dad would buy 45's, put them on tape & I'd inherit the vinyl.
It's 35 years later and yes, not only do I have that 45 but I also have the album that is was on. "Passion" is played fairly often in my house, to this day.
