When I was about nine or ten, my grandparents owned a café in a nearby town and my father worked for them. Sometimes he took me to work and let me sit on a stool at the end of the bar, next to the jukebox. I loved that thing! I didn’t care what customers wanted to hear, I begged them to play North to Alaska. I was obsessed with it, and I can’t even tell you why. Perhaps it was all the traveling we did when I was young.
During our numerous road trips across the country we stopped at pancake houses for breakfast. I cared little for the food, but most of them had those fascinating tabletop jukebox selectors. I loved to flip the pages, or whatever they were called, and look at the titles. Sometimes Dad would actually give us money to play a song. Magic.
Of course the annoying thing about jukeboxes was that other people played things you didn’t want to hear. Remember the Olivia-Newton John song, “Don’t Play B17”? I didn’t want to hear it, or her, but if you were in a restaurant you were a captive audience. Of course, sometimes it was interesting to hear what people played. Little old ladies would select Elvis, or some burly truck driver played a sad love song. I was always a people watcher!
As you enjoy your musical selections today, remember the golden days when everyone had to share whatever number you chose! Have a great day!