Read Online A Carlin Home Companion by Kelly Carlin - Free Book Online Page A

He’d say, “Kel, listen to the harmonies,” and then he’d sing with the record, “They give us the greeeeeeeens of summers./Makes you think all the world’s/A sunny day, oh yeah.” The joy in his face coupled with the purity of those notes created an explosion of love in my heart. To this day I cannot hear that song without thinking of him and those moments. To this day I love the harmonies because of him. Those moments in the middle of the night were like little life rafts in our life of increasing chaos. A safe haven of daddyness.
    Although Dad had always shared his music with me, it was during this time that I discovered my own musical tastes. It started when I picked a few albums from his collection and played them for myself. When Dad noticed this, he gave me my own turntable for my room. Dad was an early adopter of technology, and I benefited his entire life from this by being first in line to get all of his technological hand-me-downs. The first album I took into my room was Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I played it over and over until I had memorized every word of every song. The song “She’s Leaving Home” had a particularly powerful impact on me. Somewhere on the edge of my thinking, I wondered what my parents would do if I’d suddenly disappeared from their life. I didn’t want to leave them, just the chaos. It was the first time I ever entertained the thought that I could choose to do something different and separate from them in my life. If I were like the girl in the song who chose to leave, would they understand that my anxiety and loneliness from their drug use and fighting had pushed me out the door? But those thoughts and feelings were way too scary to actually have, so I pushed them somewhere into the basement of my mind. I knew I’d never leave. We were the Three Musketeers.
    As music became my sanctuary, I looked outside of my dad’s collection for even more music. Every week Dad got Billboard magazine, diligently marking where his albums were on the Top 100 Charts, and keeping the pages in a folder. But before he tore the pages out I looked to see what the top songs were, and then got him to take me down to the little record store in the Palisades Village to buy some 45s. Some of my first purchases were “Love Train” by The O’Jays, “Spiders & Snakes” by Jim Stafford, and “Rock On” by David Essex. I know. I know: “Spiders & Snakes,” really? What can I say? No doubt my eclectic taste came straight from my dad.
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    For the first year in the house on the hill, Mom seemed to be happy, which really meant she had more good days than bad. I think it was because she had a project to sink her teeth into—decorating the house. The house was one of those just-built modern homes, and it was all glass. The view was stunning. We were able to see all the way from Santa Monica Bay to downtown Los Angeles. It was an open-concept design that Mom filled with gorgeous modern touches like glass coffee tables and lights that swooped over the couch like drooping orchids. But there was also a fair share of quirky items, too. In the hall powder room, when you sat on the toilet you looked at the dashboard of an old Edsel, steering wheel and all. And in the area that had the dining room table and baby grand piano (a new addition), there was a full-size British phone booth sitting against the wall. Next to that was an old barber’s chair with a life-sized carved wooden mannequin that looked like a Native American, and in the corner was a naked male store mannequin. Mom’s humor, playfulness, and adventurous spirit were on display everywhere. She was such a joyful being in her essence, which made her dark moods and drinking that much harder to live through. When she was happy, she was a delight. When she was not, she was a nightmare.
    As time progressed, so did Mom’s drinking.