It's got a beat and you can dance to it.
I brought this home from the library last night (yes, on purpose). After listening about five minutes, Elder Son read the jewel case.
"You're listening to polkas?" he spat.
And I sang back at him, "Yah! Yah! Yah!"
"Why?"
"I grew up on polka. I learned how to polka before I learned how to walk."
He watched me stomp (because you don't really know how to polka if you don't emphasize it with your feet properly) and spin around the livingroom for a while, heels and elbows flying. Finally, he said, "Okay, now you're just staggering."
I cared not for his criticism and gleefully hollered, "I'm sure that's how the polka was born, son!"
A little beer, a little music, a little more beer... you got yourself a polka.
I especially enjoyed the extra play time I got on the teenage eye-rolling.
17 comments:
Oh yah yah yah! You ARE funny!
I secretly love the polka and was the ONLY music in my home growing up. Fa shizzle.
A lot of Mexican music use the accordion and I just great big puffy heart it.
I polka with Fiona and she loves it. All the bouncing around and spining (from her perspective any way). The boy doesn't know what he's missing.
Now I've got Lawrence Welk in my had saying "and a-one, and a-two...."
My husband actually with held the fact that the first instrument he learned how to play when he was a kid was an accordion. He's Black so I hope you can imagine why I laughed so hard in the music store when he told me and the kids. He proceeded to pick up an accordion and play a polka-esque version of "Roll Out The Barrow." It was major!
May
I grew up in Wisconsin, and never understood polka.
Until now.
May: Because I don't want your hubby to point at you and laugh, it's actually "Roll Out the Barrel". As in "we'll have a barrel of fun". (and a barrel of beer, most likely)
Your man is welcome to come over and play me a tune anytime! :)
Roses, give me some Frankie Yankovic any time!
Did you know that the "King of Polka" fought at the Battle of the Bulge, and almost had his fingers amputated due to frostbite?
You probably did. But if not: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frankie_Yankovic
I loves me some polka...and (if you promise not to tell) I'm kinda partial to beer. (Not by the barrel, but a sip now and then for my rheumatiz)
Andy: Is Frank the fella whose fans wore pink shoes? If so, I've seen him in person when he performed in Frankenmuth, Michigan.
Mostly, I loved Marv Herzog (a local F'muth favorite http://www.marvherzog.com/). Used to gossip with him at the radio station where we both worked, and he affectionately called me "Sweet Rosie Kowalski". :)
I miss him.
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!
"Your older articles are not as good as newer ones"
Anonymous: You only say that because you leave crap comments on my older posts that I delete on sight.
Good looking out Roses.
I did go watch my friend's grandfather in New Ulm play a concert in his polka band. That was a first and I was entertained = )
May
*cough*
My name is Beast and I can dance the polka. My parents social lives included many a wedding which always had a dance. And polka's.
I also watched Lawrence Welk when baby sat by an older couple when I was 3. And remember it to this day. Ooo, the colors.
Hahahahaha - I had a friend once who was SHOCKED that the chicken dance was real. And widely played (and danced to!) :)
Beast: About the weddings, it was quite the scandal in my family when one cousin decided to hire a DJ for her reception rather than a polka band. "Simply disgraceful," all the aunts tutted.
Tsk. Tsk.
Richmond: We polka purists consider the Chicken Dance to be "new polka"... you know, like "new math". :-)
Roses: I know her pain. I didn't even have a dance. Hubby don't dance. Not even the polka. :(
Hey Roses, I came back to check on the other comments. I'm thinking that we have an "Anonymous in common."
I got that exact same comment the other day on a post. I was so flattered that I didn't delete it for almost one whole hour.
Sigh...
When my dad came to visit us from California, he flew into Chicago and we had to pick him up. On the long drive home to Madison, we had a polka CD in for the first hour. Finally, when he had had enough, he asked us to turn off the polka CD, so we switched it over to the radio. We were in Wisconsin, by then. We were talking and I didn't really notice the music much. Then he pointed out that the last three songs on the radio had been polkas, too!
He just flat out couldn't believe all the polkaing going on in Wisconsin.
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