My dad was a Cincinnati kid who was born into the Great Depression and grew up in the shadow of World War II. A Catholic in the heart of the Rust Belt, he took to Latin in his high school, St. Xavier. He also learned to play the trumpet and, considering the era, he loved Big Band music. Among the legends of the time, Glen Miller was a favorite of his. And why wouldn't he be? He had all the stuff of a great American and died in the war in Europe while supporting troops. So, my dad made sure I knew about Glen Miller when I was a kid.
By the mid 1980's, Big Band had fallen far from mainstream music, but every Saturday morning, my dad listened to a radio station that broadcasted these amazing sounds from somewhere on a college campus in the heart of California's Inland Empire. It also meant that my dad was in a mood... Sometimes he took my mom and I to the local produce stand for the fixings of the evening meal. He was an awesome cook and tried some exotic stuff and it always tasted so good. He was a natural chef. Whether it was homemade coleslaw, or cornbread and chili, or shrimp scampi on the barbeque, or something he read about in the newpaper, my dad always had a great menu in his mind and waking up to Glen Miller on the radio meant that dad was in the mood to cook. I will forever miss the flavors when I hear the sounds...
by Rory Andes
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Rory Andes # 367649