52nd City

Tom Lampe Addresses Vinyl

Weeks ago, now, we hosted a spirited competition for some Y-98 vinyl, the 45s capturing the morning show of the station covering a version of "I Love LA" called, well, "I Love St. Lou." We promised two winners a 45 apiece and we had... two contestants! So, thanks to Gabe Bullard and Tom Lampe, the latter a co-conspirator on the STL Syndicate.

I liked Tom's piece and asked if we could run it. Tom said, "yes," and then I... misfiled his post to us, twice. Yikes. But it's been found and it reads like this:

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It was the summer of 1981 and my grandfather had just died. My grandma, who had been the firecracker of the family, was coping the best she could. She was trying to keep herself busy, and that involved taking me and my brother shopping.

Backing up just a bit, my grandma had fallen in love with a song that had been in heavy rotation on the radio. She did not know the name of the song, nor the artist. And she couldn't remember any of the lyrics. All that she knew was that it said exactly what she wanted to say if she had been given one more day with my grandpa.

For the past few weeks, she had been trying to hear it again... trying to see if one of us knew the song, so she could buy the record and make it hers. But the song had fallen off the charts, therefore radio had all but forgotten it. The only hint she could give us was that it was what she'd say to my grandpa if they had another day together.

So there we were at South County Mall. As was always the case, she gave each of us a dollar to go buy a 45 at the record store. When we got to the store, we stealthily browsed to make sure we each made the perfect selection. The choice for me was easy... Rick James, bitch. While I bagged up the Superfreak single, my brother grabbed Bette Davis Eyes. We got to the counter, and my brother emptied his pockets with no sign of cash. Somehow, between Pope's cafeteria, and the record store, he had lost his dollar bill.

When we caught up with grandma, she wanted to know what we'd bought. I spoke up for my bro and told her of the lost bill. As he waited to be scolded, she promptly grabbed another dollar from her pocket book and gave it to him, and he knew he wouldn't lose this one.

When we got back to the store, he went to find Kim Carnes ode to the eyes of the starlet, but it was not there. He approached the wrap stand, and was crushed to learn that, in the short time we were away, they had sold the last copy. Reluctantly, he picked up his second choice.

Back at grandma's house, she asked us if we wanted to play our records while she made us a snack. I declined knowing she probably wouldn't appreciate the art of Rick James, bitch. My brother put his record on. Emerging from the tinny speakers came the warbling words, "Now the night has gone away... Doesn't seem that long, we hardly had two words to say... Hold me in your arms for just another day... I promise this one will go slow..." And as we turned around we saw our grandma enter the room with tears streaming down her cheeks, we knew "The One That I Love" by Air Supply was the song she wished, if she had one more day with him, that she would sing to Grandpa.