When I was a kid I had this Peter and the Wolf record and accompanying picture book. I used to play that record over and over again, turning the pages and looking at the pictures every time as if it were my first. When I'd hear the French horns play the Wolf's theme song, chills would run down my spine. I can still see the picture on the outside cover of the album, where saliva is literally dripping off the Wolf's teeth as he creeps up on the little unaware boy. SCARY!
I have a vivid memory of lying in bed with only my nightlight on and one of the sliding doors to my closet was cracked open. On the floor of the closet, propped up and leaning on my shoe rack was my Peter and the Wolf Album. The dim light from my nightlight just barely lit up the saliva covered TEETH, which was all I could see in the dark abyss of my closet. I pulled my frilly eyelet blanket up close to my mouth and thought very hard about what my options were.
I could stay in bed and simply spend the night staring at the teeth, making sure they didn't make any funny moves. I could yell out for my parents to come take the teeth away, but being all of 7 years old at the time, I wouldn't want them to think I was a baby. The third option seemed the most plausible, yet the most terrifying. I would leap out of bed, and hopefully only have my feet touch ground once in order to reach the closet, slam the door shut, and leap back on to my bed. Thereby lessening the risk that another set of unseen teeth, (that may be hiding under my bed in cahoots with the ones in the closet,) could jump out and have time to nip at my ankles. And that's what I did. And so help me, I'm not sure my feet actually touched the ground at all.
I can almost feel my increased heartbeat, cold sweat and slimy palms, just the way they were that terrifying night as I sit here listening to David Bowie and the Philadelphia Orchestra doing Peter and the Wolf. Amazing the things you retain from such a young age.
I'm convinced I truly feel classical music because I was introduced to it at such a young impressionable age. We'd spend Fourth of Julys at the Hollywood Bowl with picnics and blankets on our laps. We'd wave our little American flags and I'd cry at the end of the 1812 Overture. I still do! Sometimes you'll find me blasting Bolero on my ipod instead of the usual Dandy Warhols. And as I'm listening now, I love Peter and the Wolf as much as I did as a kid, playing it on my Fisher Price record player.
Last I saw of that record (a long long time ago,) it was packed up in the den of my parents house. Must make it a point to get it back, even just to see if those teeth are as big as I remember. =)
