Eve Littlepage's Blog

Celebrating the Return of The Sun!

Happy Holidays and Merry Winter Solstice!

It’s been a few eventful months since I have posted on this blog. I haven’t been without thoughts, but most of them have been poured out on Facebook and Twitter. I’ll post shortly on that, but for now, I’d like to reconnect with those of you who read my humble blog, by offering this Celtic Blessing.

I was invited to participate in a Winter Solstice Circle on Siesta Key Beach in December 2010. I found this, and modified it a bit. Though it mentions ‘God’ it’s not particularly religious, and makes a lovely reading for any Yuletide-related events you may attend. The original is ‘in the public domain’ so I am not concerned about copyright or credit. Feel free to print it out, share it, read it, Spread The LOVE!

Bright Blessings to all for a Safe, Happy, and Healthy Holiday Season whatever and however you celebrate! Peace, Eve

(I read this Blessing, then walked around the circle holding up the ‘Sun’ as people repeated this simple sun chant with  me, “We are one with the infinite sun, forever and ever and ever,” which echoes what scientists and Joni Mitchell have been saying for decades, “We are Stardust, We are Golden…” The light returns, without and within. Blessings of Love and Light to All!)

Winter Solstice Celtic Blessing

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Eve Littlepage, an American Witch

[Happy Independence Day! Sharing a post from three years ago. Frankly, My Dear, it’s a little scary to admit you’re a [Shhh..don’t say the “W” word].

“Do you really want to include this in the beginning of your book?” asked Linda.

“Why do you ask?” I replied.

“I just thought you might want to consider whether it might affect your sales. I mean, some people who read that right off the bat may be offended by it. Of course, it’s up to you.”

Linda felt that she should focus keenly on grammar, spelling, and clarity, but dance lightly when it came to questioning my ideas and language. As a memoirist, she thought I should tell my story in my words, not hers, nor any other editor’s. When she did question something, I took notice!

I re-read the excerpt from “Author Notes,” which prefaced my memoir: “I have opted to capitalize the words Witchcraft and Pagan as I feel they have been in lower case for far too long.”*

Eve’s First Halloween Birthday

I thought about my reluctance to publicly declare myself a ‘Witch,’ in spite of being called one since my first Halloween birthday, when my parents thought it was cute to put a black and orange cone-shaped hat on my head. Strapped into a high chair, and bribed with an all-you-can-eat buffet of cake and ice cream, I allowed them their joke. By the time I was in my teens, I even thought being called a Witch was kinda cool, and wondered if it had anything to do with my obsessions with Rod Serling, Barnabas Collins, and trying to control candle flames with my mind.

Flash forward to my thirtieth year, and I did indeed find myself immersed in a world of mysticism, magic, and meaningful spiritual connection. I went to Pagan events, explored a Wiccan path by joining a coven, and set up an altar in my home. Yet, when asked if I was a ‘Witch,’ which was often, my pat answer was to reply with the challenge, “Define Witch.”

“I..er..uh..duh..umm..I dunno. Do you know what it means?” has been the most common reaction. I wish I could show you the widened eyes, dropped jaws, and backward steps people took as they stumbled into their own boobytrap.

That’s where I’d jump in with, “Well, I have an idea of what I think a Witch is. But first, I’d like to address the irony of you asking me to say whether I am, or am not, something that you don’t even know what it means to be!” Usually this would be met with a downward-cast face, slight sidewards grin, and a shuffling of the feet: common body language for, ‘You got me!’

In spite of the myriad of pentagrams adorning my house, I have preferred to call myself ‘a spiritual seeker.’ I was selective about where and when I wore a pentacle around my neck, lest someone have a noose left over from The Inquisition. There was a strange combination of fear (of offending someone, or of meeting their fear head-on) and a reluctance to paint myself into a spiritual corner, to be defined as part of one group to the exclusion of others. On the top of my list of pet peeves is all the blood spilled in the name of religion, and I didn’t want to add to the polarity. I have long been interested in finding the thread that connects all religions, rather than arguing about whose god or goddess is top dog, or if deity exists at all.

Among many of the things that drew me to a Pagan path, is its lack of dogma and restriction. The atmosphere of this path has been one that encourages expansion and study in any area that you are drawn to. I see this happening today not only in the Wiccan/Pagan community, but as reflected by recent polls that show many people defining themselves as ‘spiritual, but not religious.’

‘Witchy Eve’ page from
“The Sizzle Family Album.”

Despite my obvious Pagan leanings, I tucked my pentacle into my shirt and kept a low profile about my spiritual preferences. Then, a couple of years ago, while discussing a web-weaving ritual with a New Age ‘Minister,’ I got a jolt. He was nodding with great interest, until I told him I had learned about it at a Witch gathering. He cast his eyes around the room, lowered his voice, and said, “It sounds like a lovely idea, but we don’t mention the “W” word around here.”

REALLY? My mind screamed inside but I was too shocked to make a sound. Here, in the midst of a room full of crystals, incense, Tarot cards, books on Ascension; Here, among Reiki healers, intuitive readers, herbalists, and people burning pieces of paper to send their intentions of love and light into the Cosmos; HERE, in the middle of this regurgitated mishmash of ancient mystical magical new age mumbo-jumbo, you are telling me that “Witch” is not a word we say OUT LOUD? Really?”

I guess that, and centuries of people accused of practicing Witchcraft being systematically tortured and murdered, finally did it. It wasn’t an isolated incident. I had noticed a tendency to marginalize Wiccans and Pagans within the New Age and alternative spirituality communities before. I even recall a man I dated briefly explaining why Wicca was an inferior path to Buddhism. (Damn, I didn’t think Buddhists were spiritual snobs! I still don’t think they are, if they’re doing it right.) When I asked him why, if he felt that way, he was at a Pagan gathering instead of a Buddhist retreat, he told me it was easier to pick up women at Pagan gatherings. (Need I explain why we only dated briefly?)

Ultimately, what I’ve come to believe is that this energy which is the source of all creation is so beyond our comprehension that we need to distill it to a simpler form to begin to wrap our minds around it. And this omnipotent, infinite, unimaginable force is experiencing itself in every way that its unbounded imagination can fathom. In this view, I begin to comprehend what is meant by “We are all One.” I can look at a fellow human, like my friend Rebecca McCarthy** and think, You are God, experiencing yourself as an Author, a Teacher, and a Roller Derby jammer. I can look at the guy who just cut me off on Route 41 and think, You are The Great Spirit, experiencing yourself as an idiot.” And I can look in the mirror and say to myself, You are Divinity, experiencing yourself, among other things, as a Modern Witch/Pagan/Spiritual Seeker.

Eve on her 60th Birthday

This is America, in the year of our Lord and Lady 2013. If there has ever been a time or a place when I SHOULD feel safe to stand up and state my spiritual beliefs, without fear of being tarred and feathered, it’s here, and it’s now. In the land of the free, and home of the brave, knowing that in a time past I may have been slain at birth for coming into the world on All Hallows Eve, I rejoice in being alive, and in being able to say, “I am a Witch. Yes, I am an American Witch.” It’s a very American thing to be able to stand up and say that.

Happy Independence Day, Namaste, and Blessed Be to my fellow Americans!

With Love from Eve,

an American Witch

*”Author’s Notes” excerpt from CELESTIAL BODIES IN ORBIT: Memoirs of The Unknown Stripper by Eve Littlepage

**Rebecca Lea McCarthy is the author of Writing the Diaphragm Blues and Other Sexual Cacophonies

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Eve Littlepage in 1984, Video Magic Night, Lansdowne St. Boston, MA

LAS VEGAS, May 31, 2016 /PRNewswire/ — Author Eve Littlepage (blog: http://www.evelittlepage.com/blog/ ) is donating her May and June royalties from CELESTIAL BODIES IN ORBIT: Memoirs of the Unknown Stripper to the Burlesque Hall of Fame (BHoF website: http://www.burlesquehall.com/ ).

Littlepage is using hashtag #CBO4BHoF for the Fundraiser on social media, noting that, ‘”Celestial Bodies in Orbit Book Sale Benefit for the Burlesque Hall of Fame,’ is a bit long.”

Celestial Bodies in Orbit is the author’s memoir of striptease dancing in the Boston area during the 1970s and 80s. She published it in 2012 after funding it through Kickstarter.

Her story is laced with references to the I Ching, ghostly visitations, and spiritual epiphanies. It is also laced with references to, and celebrations of, Burlesque.

In the process of publishing her book, Littlepage discovered the Burlesque Hall of Fame, and the rebirth of the art form as Neo-Burlesque. She wishes to support The BHoF in their efforts to preserve the past and serve up a new evolution of burlesque.

The Burlesque Hall of Fame is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit museum, located at the corner of Fremont & 6th Streets in historic Downtown Las Vegas, with a mission to preserve, celebrate, and inspire the art of burlesque.

The Burlesque Hall of Fame Weekend, is BHoF’s principal fundraising event, and takes place June 2-5, 2016 at The Orleans Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas. The weekend has grown from humble beginnings in the 1950s, when it was conceived by Burlesque Legend Jennie Lee, and nurtured by Dixie Evans and others into an elaborate extravaganza.

Celestial Bodies in Orbit new cover design, released in 2016 on Amazon

The BHoF Weekend (http://bhofweekend.com/ is the longest-running burlesque event in the world: four days of flirty and fun Burly-Q events, including classes and performances from Legends and Neo-Burlesquers, so popular that it has a waiting list to attend this year.

Littlepage says it is fitting to do a fundraiser to re-launch her memoir. She has had a long history of volunteering and fundraising for non-profits, which began during her ‘Celestial Bodies in Orbit’ days.

Littlepage’s donation will help bring Burlesque Legends to the 2016 BHoF Weekend and support the Museum. Her royalties from May and June through Amazon will go to the BHoF.*  (link to Celestial Bodies in Orbit: www.evelittlepage.com/CBO/ )

*(Purchases of her memoir are not tax-deductible for buyers, but the royalties Eve Littlepage gives to BHoF will be a charitable donation.

For more information see:

Eve’s Little Page: http://www.evelittlepage.com/blog/


The Burlesque Hall of Fame: http://www.burlesquehall.com/


Littlepage is also encouraging people to make a (tax-deductible)* donation to the Burlesque Hall Of Fame if they would prefer to support them directly. There is a donation link on their website.

Contact for Book and CBO4HBoF Benefit:

Eve Littlepage, Author
 Email
: [email protected] Phone: (941) 870-4143

Contact for Burlesque Hall of Fame:

Kay Sera, PR Coordinator Email
: [email protected] Phone: (888) 661-6465

Photo – http://photos.prnewswire.com/prnh/20160531/373483


Photo – http://photos.prnewswire.com/prnh/20160531/373484

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Some of you know this already, but after a bumpy couple of years (see http://www.evelittlepage.com/blog/2016/03/26/popeve/ ) I have finally been able to ‘complete’ my memoir by giving her a tadadada…NEW COVER!

Here’s the cover layout, and a link to it on Amazon: www.EveLittlepage.com/CBO/

The original cover was campy and fun, and I thank Arturo for coming up with it for my Kickstarter. I knew when I published in 2012 I wanted a new cover, but I was thinking months, not years. But money wasn’t as abundant as calamities in 2013 and 2014. Things seem to be on the upswing, and I feel like CBO with her new cover is finally ready for the Prom! The original cover is below, in case you missed it:

The only difference inside is a new Author Page wherein I ditch the wig and shades and also talk more about my charity event background. It’s a scary thing to publish a memoir, especially about a part of your life you kept hidden from most people for years. But come what will, I’ve decided to face it without dark glasses. Left photo is my 2012 author portrait, right side is the new one:

Artist Cristina McAllister designed the ‘Spirit Dancer’ and ‘Celestial Chart’ background, incorporating symbols from the story. I found her artwork online a few years ago, and enlisted her help. I was able to contract her services due to the support of my Kickstarter Backers.

Announcing #CBO4BHoF: Celestial Bodies in Orbit Book Sale Benefit for the Burlesque Hall of Fame!

Hello Sweet People! Tickle me with a feather boa, I am pleased to tell you that I am doing a Book Sale Benefit to relaunch* CELESTIAL BODIES IN ORBIT: Memoirs of the Unknown Stripper.

I am donating ALL of my May and June royalties to the Burlesque Hall of Fame (BhoF). They will use the funds to help bring some of their Legends to the 2016 BHoF Weekender in Las Vegas, June 2nd to 5th, and to support their Museum.

As a young stripteaser in the 70s, I was fortunate to dance in suburban Boston clubs with some of the top-notch acts who are now known as Legends, like Dusty Summers, Las Vegas Only Nude Magician. I mentioned Dusty, and other Legends in my memoir, and the profound effect they had on me that lasted throughout the ten years I danced.

Watching Dusty’s grace, style, and commitment to hard work showed me the type of dancer I wanted to be, even if I didn’t seek the larger stage. I didn’t get to ‘meet’ her until after I had written and published my memoir, when I was thrilled to find her on the World Wide Web.

Dusty was kind, not only in giving my book a great review, but also in letting me use this excerpt from it on my new cover, “I can heartily recommend Eve Littlepage’s book…Her spiritual trip was as interesting to me as her experiences in ten years of stripping.” (Thank you, Dusty!)

I’ve had a long history of volunteering and fundraising for non-profits, and it began during my Celestial Bodies in Orbit days. So it is fitting to re-launch my book as a Fundraiser. And it is a joy to give back to the Burlesque Legends who inspired me, and to the BHoF, who are preserving their stories (along with glittery costumes, accessories, and intriguing props!)

It’s fairly common knowledge that the Golden Age of Burlesque was well over by the 1970s. What is less well-known is that many of us ecdysiasts went over and above what the strip biz expected of us and tried to keep the spirit of Burlesque alive in the 70s and 80s. At the time that I stumbled into making my living in spiked heels, it was a business to aspire getting out of, not one to climb up a disappearing ladder to a shrinking apex of stardom for. But I survived and even thrived in it by attempting to be more like the Legends and Stars. I wasn’t alone in trying to keep some of the creativity, style, and above all, the tease, in the strip biz.

So even though I am not a Legend, I am a Veteran, a Betweener in the Biz who danced in spikes for ten years, straddling the widening chasm between the Old Burlesque Tease and Modern Strip Club Sleaze, trying to keep my balance in a changing world, through challenging relationships, and while spinning in three-inch heels.

CELESTIAL BODIES IN ORBIT: Memoirs of the Unknown Stripper is laced with references to the I Ching, ghostly visitations, and spiritual epiphanies. It is also laced with references to, and celebrations of, Burlesque. In the process of publishing my book, I discovered the genre of Neo-Burlesque and the Burlesque Hall of Fame, and am pleased to contribute to further those who want to preserve the past, and serve up and new evolution of the art form. I don’t have much to give–just my own story, so…

All of my royalties from May and June Kindle sales and Paperbacks, as well as bonuses I earn (from Free Kindle reads through Kindle Unlimited, etc.) will go to the BHoF. Here’s a link to: Celestial Bodies in Orbit (on Amazon).

I hope you will join in supporting my efforts. Or, if you’d like to make a straight donation to the Burlesque Hall of Fame, please do so here and tell them Eve Littlepage sent you!

Your support in any and all ways is appreciated, so please help by spreading the word! Deep Gratitude to All! – xx, Eve

Look for posts on Facebook and Twitter under: #CBO4BHoF #CelestialBodiesInOrbit #BHoF #BHoF2016 and #BurlesqueHallOfFame

*Re: (2nd para.) “Relaunch”, see my previous post: PopEve

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Before my 2015 Winters Solstice Post, Facebook sent me a gentle nudge that I hadn’t posted in 563 days. That is a pitiful amount of time to neglect your Friends, Fiends, and Fans. So, why did I abandon the virtual world so soon after publishing my memoir? What gives, Eve?

Kids, all I can say is that the past couple of years have been like a Country-Western song on steroids.

Yes, my Friends, it was a cascade of calamities, that often reminded me of the Popeye toy we had as children. Any of you remember it?  It was life-sized (to a four-year-old) and weighted at the bottom. You’d wind up your arm and sock him the jaw and he’d fall backwards and then pop up again, and again every time you socked it to ‘em.

Well, I’ve been Popeye (but you can call me PopEve) and it’s been life sockin’ it to me, and I popped up and popped up ’til I was finally too pooped to pop up…for a long time…563 days according to FB.

Popeye Punch Me Toy c. 1950s, © King Features Syndicate

To say ‘The Blues’ had kept me away would be an oversimplification. Part of my absence was due to sheer fatigue. Oftentimes I’ve been too exhausted to get online, not depressed, just tired. Though being chronically tired can make one depressed, laugh out loud. Sigh. Wrist and back issues are a detriment to writing a lot. Then there’s the calamities.

Early 2013 started with a trip to the ER for Arturo. (See my post about that here) Then a domino-effect of stressful incidents that included a dog bite (not me), two court appearances (non-criminal), loss of income and loss of residence, all while I was dealing with chronic pain, numbness and tingling, diminished movement, and fatigue from spinal stuff.

Some of the hoopla that happened might be good fodder for another memoir, but not unless there’s a happy ending. Arturo and I have landed in a sweet spot for now, and find ourselves feeling like we are embarking on a happy beginning to a happy ending…more on that soon.

In the meantime, as time and my energy allow, I will be sharing stories about the lemonade that we are making from the lemons life has tossed our way. Through all of our ups and downs, Arturo and I hold hands every day, look into each other’s eyes and say “We are blessed.” We’ve said it when we were rolling our last coins to eat, and grateful that we had coins to roll. We said it when we had a car that had 350,000 miles on it, and we were grateful it still ran. We say it every day, as we move around the country house-sitting, our current alternative to spending most of our income on rent.

So please, when you think of me, of us, don’t feel sorry. Yeah, my body doesn’t work as well as it once did, but damn, Ive had a good time with it over the years! I have known poverty and despair, but today I look on them as struggles I’ve emerged from, from a past I am grateful not to be in today. Because today the daffodils are blooming, Spring is in the air, and I think PopEve is ready to Pop Up and stick around for a while.

Thank you for being here, and especially all of you who gave me such a warm welcome back after my long and challenging absence.

Blessings to All for a Bright and Beautiful Spring!

Eve aka PopEve

Sunflower Sunrise / photo: Eve Littlepage

I’ve never written much poetry. This one welled up one day, twenty years ago, in the midst of deep grief. For all of you who are faced with the loss of someone dear, it is my humble offering.

I was strolling along the Charles River near Boston, MA on a chilly November morning in 1996. Contemplating the link between the depths of grief and heights of joy, and observing a few straggling Autumn leaves, this came up. It surprised me, as most of my ‘poetry’ is very sing-songy and sometimes Dr. Suess-like, so I’ve been told. The writing of it somehow helped me get to a lighter place within my heart. 

I’m sharing it not to try to fix anyone, or tell them how it’s all going to be better. Everyone’s process is their own. I am sharing just to say that I do hear you, and I know how you feel. Peace, xx-Eve 

grief and gratitude

outdoors the countryside mirrors the landscape of my heart:

the trees, the rocks and grass are still obvious

not yet erased by winter’s white starkness

yet something is missing from view –

there’s a hollowness – or more like a half-emptiness

leaves have deserted trees that once nourished them

scattering in the wind like the tears i shed for you

some leaves cling stubbornly, refusing to abandon their precious branches

they are like the tears that well up but won’t fall

filling my heart ‘til it feels like it will sink into the ground

– pulled down toward the earth by undeniable gravity

yet they still cling as if in fear of the release

and relief that flowing tears may bring

if all the leaves descend, yielding to the chilling autumn air

will there be anything left to remind me of the fullness of summer?

if all my tears spill over, surrendering to the heaviness of grief

will i then forget the sweetness of the years we shared?

i cannot let that final leaf fall, the last tear flow

i will steadfastly hold some small piece of this pain

so ever to embrace the joy that was once your beautiful life

and always feel gratitude for the time we had

– Eve Littlepage 11/11/1996

Sunflower Friends / photo: Eve Littlepage

I posted the following photo and text on Facebook on Novemeber 22, 2015. There was more I wanted to say, and MLK Day seems a perfect time…

“Ten years before this photo was taken I was beaten by a MAN so badly that it left me temporarily paralyzed from the neck down. BECAUSE OF THE TRAUMA, I BEGAN TO FEAR AND HATE ALL MEN.

But ALL men did not brutalize me. As my body slowly healed I told my fractured spirit, “ALL MEN DID NOT DO THIS TO YOU.” I repeated it, like a mantra, and thought of the men in my life who were loving and kind – my Father, my Brothers, my Buddies from back home.

I could have EASILY lived in HATRED and FEAR of ALL MEN for the past forty years. But I chose to keep my heart open. I CHOSE NOT TO FEAR AND HATE ALL MEN FOR THE CRUELTY OF ONE. PEOPLE, I BEG YOU NOT TO FEAR AND HATE ALL MUSLIMS FOR THE HORRENDOUS DEEDS OF A FEW RADICAL EXTREMISTS. You, and the World, will be better for it. – Eve Littlepage ‪#‎SurvivorNotVictim‬ ‪#‎EndRacism‬”

Martin Luther King Day, Monday, January 18, 2016,

A slew of challenges in the past two years has kept me off social media for a long spell. Just as I was ready to poke my head out, Paris and Beirut were attacked. The crushing horror and heartache of it, and the entire world situation, made me want to crawl back into seclusion. But I had to say something to the surge in Islama-phobia and about racism in general, which I had so hoped, coming of age in the 60s, we would be far passed by now.

The Facebook post was all I could manage, at the time. So today, on Marin Luther King Jr. Day, I wish to expand this a little to explain where I was coming from. You could substitute Black Man, Mexican, or any other group you see as ‘other’ for ‘Muslim.’ What I was trying to get across in my post, but was too upset to articulate it at the time, is that I feel we are going through a form of ‘Group Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,’ and I know a thing or two about PTSD.

Having survived domestic abuse as a young woman, and a pretty horrific fall in 2006 that sent me hurtling down a dark staircase and crushed both of my wrists, I have had to deal not only with physical trauma, but also heightened fears of men, the dark, stairs, and a generalized terror that the ground might go out from under me at any time (natural, I’m told, for falls like mine).

It took focused, intentional work to overcome my phobias, but the reward has been to live without my fears taking the lead. I had to face those fears head-on to not let them control me. (It’s ongoing work; overcoming fears can be a bit like playing Whack-a-Mole!).  After my abuse incident I had to coach myself back to sanity. It would have been amazing to have a counselor and some medical help, but forty years ago the resources for women who had been abused were scarce. I had the good fortune to work with a wonderful psychotherapist after my stairfall, and I can be in the dark again without my chest feeling like it will explode, and climb stairs without my knees buckling in panic.

Hatred – whether it’s for a person whose skin is different than yours, or for spiders, or for the dark, or clowns – it all comes from Fear. Prejudice comes from Fear. Martin Luther King Jr. knew this, and he knew that it took something that doesn’t always come easily to us, Courage, to overcome it. In Strength to Love he wrote, “Courage faces fear and thereby masters it.”

And so my little post was not, and is not, an invitation to argue the pros and cons of taking in refugees, or discuss the anti-infidel rhetoric of the Q’uran; or discuss immigration reform, but rather an invitation for us all to look into our own hearts and have the courage to face our fears, overcome them, master them, and grow in the Spirit of Universal Love.

With courage we can move our dreams of peace, justice, and equality into reality. xx-Eve

The light is returning, and so am I, at last! Sorry for such a long absence…more about that soon, but for today I just wanted to reach out and wish everyone a Merry Yuletide Season!

All over the world people from many different countries, cultures, and spiritual beliefs will be celebrating holidays and Holy Days that are inspired by the Winter Solstice and the return of life-bringing Sun that it signifies.

When I found this beautiful article by Danielle Prohom Olson on her blog, “Gather,” I just had to share it as a way to reconnect with Eve’s Little Page, and any of you out there who are ‘listening.’ I will be ‘re-purposing’ my blog to celebrate the ‘Rise of the Feminine Divine,’ (more about that soon, too!), among other things. To that end, this exploration into the origins of Santa’s Reindeer seemed a great start! I hope you enjoy it as I did. It was informative and a true visual treat! Solstice Blessings, Eve

Click here for “Doe, A Deer, A Female Deer: The Spirit of Mother Christmas”

Teenage Eve

It was time to graduate from 45s. Cleaning, ironing, and babysitting for neighbors were about to pay off in a new musical adventure. I had scraped up enough from my various after-school jobs to buy an album–a 78 LP!

There was no lack of exciting new sounds to choose from in 1966. Yet, it didn’t take much time flipping through the records at my local W.T. Grants before I found it, under ‘A’ for ‘Animals.’ “House of The Rising Sun” was getting lots of airplay on WABC. There was something haunting and gritty about the sound, which set it apart from the bubble-gum pop tunes and ballads of the early 60s.

My heart was thumping along with the beat of the music and I hadn’t even put it on the turntable yet! In fact, I wasn’t able to play my new treasure for the first few days I owned it. This was a new kind of torture. Our family Hi-Fi system shared sacred space with the TV. The TV was always on. The Animals would remain caged for a while longer.

When Saturday night finally came, I couldn’t wait to go to my new babysitting gig. After dinner, teeth-brushing, and bedtime stories, I tucked my two young charges into their beds. I surveyed the living room and found the Hi-Fi system. Mine…all mine! I relished the thought. No asking permission or squabbling with siblings. I could just press the buttons and play the music I was longing to hear.

Eve’s First 78 LP!

I pulled out the album and used a butter knife to slit the plastic. If you did it carefully, you could open the edge to remove the record and keep the wrapper intact to protect the cover. Albums had cover art worth protecting back then. Slipping the vinyl out of its cardboard, I took great care to hold the record by its center and edges. A smudgy fingerprint on the grooves could cause a skip. I tilted the large disc in my hands, marveling at the pristine beauty and symmetry of the shiny grooves. This was a virgin record, and it was all mine, to enjoy for the evening! (As I write this I wonder if Richard Branson had a similar infatuation with brand new vinyl; if a memory like mine inspired him to name his company Virgin Records?)

I figured out the unfamiliar stereo system in no time. Electronics had fewer buttons in those days! Then I listened, as rapt as a true believer listening to a church sermon. Except this was the Church of Rock ‘n ‘Roll, and I was being baptized by the Blues. I didn’t know it was ‘The Blues,’ not back then. It was Rock ‘n Roll, but earthier than the Rock I usually rolled to in those days.

Chas Chandler &
Eric Burdon of The Animals

The bold guitar chords, the driving beat, and the gravelly voice of Eric Burdon reached deep into my body and soul. I couldn’t sit still. Without the critical eyes of parents or siblings, I felt light and free. I cranked up the sound and flailed around the living room stomping, swaying, and spinning to “We Gottta Get Out Of This Place,” “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood,” and “It’s My Life.” When I had played both sides through, I flipped it over and played it again, and again. I played it so much I’m sure it rearranged my DNA.

My babysitting career with that family only lasted one night. But the memory of letting loose to my first LP, “Best of The Animals” has stayed with me for decades. In this age of iPods and MP3 players, I realize it’s a type of memory unique to us ‘older kids.’ I can’t imagine how this story would have played out if I could have simply pressed a button on something called a computer and loaded into a small box attached to something called earbuds.

The smell, the shine, the sleek beauty of vinyl; the mystery and magic created as a thin needle transfers grooves in that vinyl into sensuous sound; a young girl’s body celebrating her budding sexuality in a hedonistic dance; this is the stuff of sweet music memories!

And what about you– do you remember your first LP?

- Eve