I was saddened, but not totally surprised, to hear the news
that St. Louis legendary music icon Chuck Berry passed away on Saturday. Chuck Berry
was 90 when he died in St. Charles County, Missouri, the same county where I
live—about fifteen miles from my home.
It’s strange how the death of one person can trigger memories
that have been packed away for decades. Although I never met Chuck Berry in
person, his music and presence touched my soul and influenced my childhood.
Just
about everyone in my North St. Louis neighborhood of the 1950s and 1960s knew
about Chuck Berry and his music, including my mom.
Mom loved music, and she loved to dance. Her tastes ranged
from the Country music of Johnny Cash, the soulful melodies of Johnny Mathis
and Andy Williams, and the rock and roll of Elvis, Chubby Checker—and, of course,
St. Louis songwriter and musical icon Chuck Berry.
My dad was a germaphobe, so it wasn’t surprising that Mom
was an immaculate housekeeper. Music was Mom’s constant companion every day when
she cleaned our house—make that rented flat—because my folks never owned a
house back then.
Once a week, to the sounds of whatever was playing the
radio, Mom would wash and wax the floors. After the wax dried, she got out Dad’s
old Army blanket and my siblings and I took turns riding the blanket like a
sled as Mom pulled us around in her butts-on-the-blanket buffer.
In our cozy 1950s kitchen, Mom kicked up her heels and taught
my sisters and me how to dance her version of the Charleston and Jitterbug to Chuck
Berry’s songs such as: “Maybellene,” “Johnny B. Goode,” and of course, “Rock
and Roll Music.”
So, rock in peace, Chuck Berry.
Thank you for bringing your gift of music to the world and a
little bit of soul to my family.
Lastly, thank you for sparking this memory of
dancing in the kitchen with my mom.
