The septuagenarian crowd overtook the island pool today. I switched from our neighbourhood pool to the island pool because while tricycling past the neighbourhood pool it was patently already consumed by others. So I checked out the island pool and it was comparatively sparse (a feature that changes day to day).
Not long after I reclined on the chaise longue someone arrived behind me. He or she then initiated an exceedingly tolerable loud speaker and began playing 50s schmaltz music the likes of Roger Williams, Ronnie Aldrich, Mantovani, the Living Strings and Jackie Gleason at his once famous Miami Night club.
Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, Gleason enjoyed a prominent secondary music career producing a series of best-selling “mood music” albums with jazz overtones for Capitol Records. Gleason believed there was a ready market for romantic instrumentals. His goal was to make “musical wallpaper that should never be intrusive, but conducive”. He recalled seeing Clark Gable play love scenes in movies; the romance was, in his words, “magnified a thousand percent” by background music. Gleason reasoned, “If Gable needs music, a guy in Brooklyn must be desperate!“
The music reminded me of my childhood 65 years ago in Washington DC when my mother would use the new Hi Fi in the study to play compositions such as the Autumn Leaves or other mournful favourites the likes of which latterly included Ebb Tide, the Godfather and Chariots of Fire. The music always made my mother wistfully hum along. Although because of my father’s diplomatic mission my parents entertained a great deal, my father was a teetotaler and my mother drank alcohol only infrequently. I know however my mother had a prescription for the perfect martini (a recipe I adopted to my peril when older). She took a 40 oz. bottle of gin, poured off a capful, put back a capful of vermouth, then stored the bottle in the freezer along with the martini glasses. She never remarked upon the ingredient of olives but I suspect in the ’50s the variety of olives available was minimal.
Mid-afternoon I went for a relieving swim in the pool. I adore the swim not only for its refreshment but also for the epic spectacle it affords when floating on my back and staring blankly into the azure sky above, fringed at times by the Buttonwood bushes and the palm trees. There is nothing finer! It is Key Largo’s Sacrament of Heaven!
When I withdrew from the pool and prepared to leave, I stopped to ask those seated behind me under the pergola about the brand of the speaker from which the music had been playing so delightfully. A gentleman (whom I had met before) claimed proprietorship and told me about the brand of the device. We subsequently and unwittingly entered into a private discussion (his wife and cohorts were then leaving). His story is remarkable. He is from Michigan, a life-long inhabitant. He has worked for Ford Motor Company; and GM was a client of his metallurgical business. He was married at about 20 years of age upon graduating from high school and has 4 children and 16 grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He is now 86 years of age and his wife is still with him.
Not being a family man myself it is perhaps odd that I should be so overwhelmed by the familial factors of this gentleman. I confess however that I have unalloyed admiration for anyone who has, as this gentleman so obviously has, run a successful career and raised a family. At the outset of our confab I recall thinking to myself how wonderful it must be for his grandchildren to have such a dynamic grandparent with whom to share his vast and iconic experience.
In the interest of full disclosure I report that this gentleman and I have an important feature in common. We are both members of the Craft; that is, Freemasonry. The gentleman is a member of the Shrine; I of the Scottish Rite in addition to having been the Past Master of our blue lodge.
Scottish Rite is one of the appendant bodies of Freemasonry that a Master Mason may join for further exposure to the principles of Freemasonry. It is also concordant, in that some of its degrees relate to the degrees of Symbolic (Craft) Freemasonry. In England and some other countries, while the Scottish Rite is not accorded official recognition by the Grand Lodge, only a recognized Freemason may join and there is no prohibition against his doing so. The Scottish Rite builds upon the ethical teachings and philosophy offered in the Craft (or Blue) Lodge, through dramatic presentation of the individual degrees.
This fraternity made a difference to our discussion, its scope, its depth, its humour and its meaning. We parted upon agreeable terms. I unfortunately hadn’t the time to tell him that years ago I had walked upon the identical floorboards of a Masonic Lodge on Cape Cod which had been visited by and instituted by Paul Revere (then Grand Master of the Massachusetts Lodge).