Rodd Keith
of killing Vietnamese. In my childishness I thrilled to the stirring refrain as trombones rose golden like the sun upon a sea of heroic baritones: “Silver wings upon your chest / You are one of America’s best” and so on. It went to number one on the charts, and every time I heard it I felt like marching around the house.
From the Red Blight
Mr. Aquino and his friend watched anxiously for my father’s reaction. They knew he owned a bar with a jukebox, and that many of his regulars–workers from Oldsmobile, Diamond Reo, and Fisher Body–were veterans of World War II and Korea who tended to be very patriotic and might just go for another soldier song. But although this singer had a nice voice, he didn’t sound like much of a soldier. I could tell my father wasn’t impressed, but his years behind the bar had taught him much about tact. He grinned broadly and said, “What’s on the other side?”
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It stayed there for several years, until I reached adolescence and became obsessed with rock music. Some of my junior-high classmates already owned impressively tall stacks of 45s and I longed to catch up. Figuring every decent single I could grab would help my cause, I dug out the long-neglected record and examined it. The b side I had liked was called “Island of Love.”
Love to play all through the day
You hear her whisper “Please don’t go,
