Whipped Cream & Other DelightsMy parents didn’t own a lot of records, and what they did have was an odd assortment of music, considering they were twenty-somethings during the mid-1960s, one of the greatest eras in musical history.  For example, they only owned one Beatles album.  But they were young parents of two children living in what must have been Canada’s most expensive city, Toronto, and I’m told that records were expensive.  One of the records they owned for which I’m very grateful is the 1965 Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass album Whipped Cream & Other Delights, although I can’t say for sure whether I ever listened to it.  What I loved, and still love, is the album cover.  In what was a conservative household, where racy scenes in movies would see a parent’s or even sister’s hand quickly cover my innocent eyes, this album was one bit of sexuality that I could–surreptitiously–access.  I always thought of it as a kind of forbidden fruit, and instinctively knew that I would be in trouble, or at the very least embarrassed, to be caught looking at it.  The ultimate fate of this album is perhaps worth mentioning: for some reason, our dog got hold of the vinyl and destroyed it, leaving the cover (the most important part anyway) untouched.  It was the only album he ever destroyed, and I’ve never settled on a reasonable explanation for why he did it.

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