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I Was A Baby Lou Costello, and other blasts from the past

By March 20, 2015No Comments

Baby Glenn

The young Costello dop­pel­gänger is, yes, your humble cor­res­pond­ent, some­where between years 1960 and 1962 I reck­on. I sup­pose I am so cheer­ful because the pho­to­graph­er is dangling a raw steak out of frame or something. 

70s Christmas

Here’s the Christmas 1970 Polaroid I alluded to in the post about my mom, below. From left to right, broth­er Michael, clas­sic rock­er me, sis­ter Kathleen, and a pleased Santa Mom in the back­ground. Santa Dad took the shot. I’ve com­pletely blocked out all memory of the drum kit and I don’t even know to whom it was gif­ted. Seriously, what were my par­ents think­ing?

Amelia working resized

For afi­cion­ados of early 1970s cor­por­ate bro­chure por­trait­ure: Here’s my mom with her col­league Yvonne Rivera, posed for a shot in the “Who We Are” sec­tion of the glossy handout for Yegen Associates, the small fin­ance firm (I think) where my mom took the job that turned my sibs and I into quasi-latchkey kids, with dicey but not entirely cata­stroph­ic results. 

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  • Petey says:

    The young Costello dop­pel­gänger is, yes, your humble cor­res­pond­ent, some­where between years 1960 and 1962 I reck­on. I sup­pose I am so cheer­ful because the pho­to­graph­er is dangling a raw steak out of frame or something.”
    Raw steak? Or early an Russ Meyer film?

  • george says:

    I see you got a Skittle Pool game for Christmas 1970. I had one of those, too.
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5HHehkcI_A

  • Oliver_C says:

    Glenn Kenny was born the year Lou Costello died. Coincidence?

  • Henry Holland says:

    Yikes, 10-key data entry. *shud­der*
    In late 1968, I became obsessed with Cream’s “Wheels of Fire” album, spe­cific­ally Ginger Baker’s drum­ming. I begged and begged my par­ents to get me a drumkit. My sis­ter was dat­ing a drum­mer in a band, I just wanted a kit so. damn. bad. They agreed, with one con­di­tion: that I take some basic per­cus­sion les­sons. Once a week for a few months I went and learned my rudi­ments on a prac­tice pad from my sis­ters boy­friend. Finally, I went to my par­ents and proudly showed them my skills.
    Me: I think I’m ready for you to buy me a kit, I want a Ludwig drum kit
    Dad: We’re not buy­ing you a drum kit, we’re not put­ting up with the noise
    Me: Waaaaaaaaah! YOU PROMISED IF I TOOK LESSONS!
    Mom: No we didn’t
    Me: Waaaaaaah! Yes you did!
    Dad: Well, no drum kit, that’s final.
    I told my par­ents years later that it’s the only time I ever truly hated them and they both laughed. Dad: “If it was only that one time, I think we did OK then!”. Of course, I real­ize now that I would have been 21 (i.e. to leg­ally play clubs) in 1980, when drum machines came in, it would have been bad tim­ing on my part.

  • Pete Apruzzese says:

    So sorry for your loss, Glenn. Wonderful memor­ies con­veyed in this and the oth­er post­ing – thanks for sharing.

  • Owain says:

    Absolutely CRACKING pho­tos, Mr Kenny. Especially the Christmas morn­ing one.