Marilyn
Waltz

Performer, Composer: Rudy Wiedoeft
Victor, 1921
MP3 1,344K

I bought it in college, because I had a friend named Marilyn and it was a song named Marilyn. I played it for her, and when the record got past that first ripping saxophone riff and into the waltz proper, her eyes got wide, and she said, "Can't you just see the girl this song belongs to?"

Yes. Yes, I can. And so can you. Go listen to it.

Right now.

Go on.

I'll wait.

She's a sour-faced, sullen little thing with a gigantic bow in her hair. Big feet, big elbows and knees, chapped. Skinny. Her dress is mostly ruffles, and she's doing her level best to disappear into it. She's sitting on a metal folding chair against the wall. Her heels don't touch the floor.

It's a dance or a piano recital or something. We don't know, we can't see that. It's not in a gymnasium, though, it's in a private home. There's dreary wallpaper and dreary balloons and dreary crepe streamers.

The chaparone looks like Aunt Mary. She's ladling sour punch with things floating in it from a giant punch bowl. Into proper cups - no paper dixie cups for us, thank you, we're 1921.

There may be boys nearby, but they're nothing more than a shy glimpse of spots and Adam's apples.

There! See that?

Thank you, Marilyn. Thanks a bunch, Rudy Wiedoeft. Thank you M.K. Brown. Much obliged for this bleak riffle through the mental junk drawer.