That's right. It's my birthday. Fifty years ago, I arrived. But unlike this Magnavox console which followed me into the world a few years later, I've not been abandoned curbside. At least, not yet.

One of my earliest memories was of my Dad's Magnavox Stereo Console, a console that bore a striking resemblance to the Maggie in this picture. Actually, calling it a "console" is selling it short. It was my first brush with an Entertainment System. Somewhere in the family history are pictures of the actual unit the Manteghian's owned, but I can describe it accurately enough from memory alone.

First, dead center – the TV; black and white, not a colored bone in its body. We watched original "I Love Lucy" episodes on it. My parents would be eloquently perched on their brown and beige tweed covered sofa, my mother's hair coiffed in full tilt boogie Sixties' fashion, my father with loosened tie and a short sleeve white shirt by her side. I was king of the carpet and sat close enough to ensure my eventual blindness.

Flanking the picture tube (what was it, 17" inch? 19" tops?), was a 3-way, open back speaker system, the baffle covered by a brown grill cloth with shiny metallic threads interspersed for that space age allusion. Those drivers would end up in a speaker cabinet extension for my guitar amp years later. It was a disrespectful and undeserving end that awaited them after long years of service when solid state clipping took them out without so much as a whimper.

The real charmer though, were the top mounted sliding panels. The one on the left, above the left channel speakers, held the turntable. It was a fully automatic, drop 'em if you got 'em, record player. We could stack 33's, the few we had, or shove the black Bakelite glove of pop on the spindle and play 45s. Those 7" records with the big hole would be my first real introduction to Rock & Roll.

Off to the right, another sliding panel revealed the volume, the balance, the treble, and yes, lordy lordy, the B-A-S-S. The term subwoofer hadn't even been invented yet, but the Magnavox's warm tube sound could curl the hair on your knuckles, if I'd had hair on my knuckles.

I have hair on my knuckles now.

Happy birthday, Fred