Tinna the Bad Girl

Man, am I on a blog binge! Forgive me for the deluge of posts.

During my possession-purge these last few weeks, I peered into a forgotten cabinet to discover two dozen seven-inch boxes of brittle, shiny-orange Scotch audio tape that Dad had recorded starting in the early 1950s. Throughout his life he was a fanatical documentarian. In this respect, I am my father’s daughter. In photographic slides, audio, and later Super 8 film, he chronicled (among other things) the early years of his three children, of which I was the middle. Fortunately he was also obsessively organized, so along with the recordings I found a log with a detailed listing of the tapes’ contents. In this respect, he and I have nothing in common. Consulting the book, I pulled aside a couple reels that seemed promising and, having no idea whether or not they’d even play, walked them down the street to Digital Roots Studio to be converted to computer files. I also took along a stray item: a tiny three-inch reel with no identification. Within the week, the digitization was complete.

First I listened to the little mystery tape. I figure it’s from about 1964, when I was ten, and it’s eight minutes of little me singing traditional American folk songs with my best friend Maria. In this brief excerpt, you can hear Dad in the background, joining in. The guitar accompaniment would be mine. Until I sold it a couple years later to my older brother for $5 and piece of Juicy Fruit gum (current worth: maybe $5,000–$10,000), I played an amazing old Martin D-body, practically twice my size, that Dad had given me. My brother still has it!

Speaking of my father’s remarkable organizational and documenting skills, I have to show you the inside-back of the transistor radio that I found in his basement after he died. What you’re seeing are his notes delineating precisely the dates of his battery changes, the type of battery used, and how long each charge lasted, from June of 1969 until December 1990.

Anyway, back in the 80s when I was producing my NPR-funded series about childhood, I mined all these old family tapes seeking interesting bits for my programs, but I haven’t heard them since. Today I listened to half an hour out of the two hours that Digital Roots preserved. Following are my two favorite moments.

• Even without these audio reminders, I do remember that my parents sometimes asked me whether or not I was a “good girl.” Here I am on my third birthday:

• What I have absolutely no memory of is the existence of my apparent alter-ego, Tinna. I’m guessing I needed her as a counterbalance for the Good Ginna, and imagine that she was the one who was responsible for getting into trouble on occasion. Meet her in this 55-second clip, which I find a bit sad at the end.